


The A-paw-lling Disappearance of Sylvain Jose Gautier

by ratbandaid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, also yes I know that Felix is more cat-like but still!! let's get us some good cat Sylvains!!!!!, felix can have little a cat!sylvain. as a treat., just in one little part!, kind of out of character everyone orz pls forgive me, no beta we die like Glenn, turned into a cat trope!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/pseuds/ratbandaid
Summary: “I can’t believe him,” comes Ingrid's voice. “Sylvain’s still not anywhere to be found. Doesn’t that idiot know that we’ve been looking for him?”“I find it quite odd too, Ingrid,” Dimitri replies, looking exasperated. Sylvain thinks that it’s kind of funny that Dimitri would have to put up with Ingrid’s wrath, now that Sylvain is gone. He’d expected her to go bother Felix before coming near His Highness with her gripes.“I’m sorry to interrupt, but isn’t this kind of a big problem?” comes the soft voice of Mercedes, drawing the blondes’ attention to her. “It’s a little concerning that Sylvain would go missing right after we find Flayn, who had also just gone missing.”"I’m sure he’s fine,” Ashe quickly cuts in with a worried frown. “Sylvain is a very capable fighter. He’d never just get kidnapped, don’t you think?”“Why would anyone want to kidnap Sylvain anyway?” Annette muses, cocking her head.'Hey! I’m a very desirable person,' Sylvain wishes he could joke, just to see his friends stop being so concerned. 'Who wouldn’t want to kidnap this redhead mess?'-------------------In which Sylvain goes missing, and a new cat shows up on the monastery grounds.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 299
Collections: Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is super self-indulgent and doesn't entirely make sense, but I wanted to write it anyway! Here it is: an AU where Sylvain gets turned into a cat. Sorry if anyone is too OOC and sorry about the pacing! I know that I could have stretched this out to really Maximize Angst, but I'm impatient and pacing is the bane of my existence!! 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Get back here, Sylvain Jose Gautier!”

Sylvain, sprinting like he’s racing the horses in the monastery stables, hears the telltale whizzing of something flying at him and ducks just in time to barely dodge a high-heeled shoe barreling towards the back of his head. Seems like actually going to class and putting in some effort towards training has paid off, if his reflexes and his stamina are anything to go off of. He swears he’s been running from this one girl for at least a good ten minutes. Sure, he saw her getting upset when he inevitably broke things off with her, but he didn’t think she’d get angry enough to chase him into running laps around the monastery.

He has no clue how close she is, but things are starting to get dire, considering he’s just run himself into a dead-end. His breaths feel like individual punches to his lungs, his chest burning and heaving. Sylvain manages a swift turn down into a corridor, huffing out an apology to the monastery nun he practically ran over. He trips up the stairs and scrambles to his dorm room, his shaky hands digging around in his pockets for his keys.

“You,” comes his pursuer’s cold, breathy snarl. She stomps over to him, and Sylvain swears internally because he can’t find his goddess-damned keys. He slowly turns to face the girl with a small, sheepish smile, holding his hands up in what he hopes is a placating gesture. But before he can say anything to diffuse the situation—well, realistically, he’d probably only make it worse, even with his smooth-talking skills—she jabs her finger into his chest and talks over him.

“Sylvain, you worthless, heartless, back-stabbing, skirt-chasing, cheating whore!” With every insult, her finger jabs into his chest, and Sylvain takes a step back until his back is pressed up against his door. None of those words particularly hurt coming from her since he’s heard them all from other people before, but goddess, her nail does. He absentmindedly wonders if he’s going to have little crescent-shaped marking in his chest from her nails, but he quickly snaps his attention back into the present, where he feels like death is standing directly at his feet.

“Elaine,” he says, though he’s not entirely sure if that’s even her name, “let’s calm down for a second, okay? I mean, give me some time to catch my breath. You always take my breath away, but you usually don’t make me run around Garreg Mach, sweetheart.” He flashes her his usual captivating smile, which only seems to darken her expression.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to break up with me for _another girl_ who you were seeing behind my back and flirt with me anyway!” she snaps at him.

“I didn’t break up with you for another girl,” Sylvain protests because honestly, he didn’t. He broke up with Elaine because she was just like all the other girls that came after him—after his Crest. That wasn’t the entire reason though. Honestly, after what happened in his life recently, all he needs is some time to reflect, and if he needed to break up with this girl to get it, then he would.

“Don’t you lie to me, Gautier.” She glowers at him. “I know that you spend all your free time with that blond Galatea girl. And I know you did before we even broke up!”

“What, you mean Ingrid?” He makes a face, but it only seems to frustrate her more. The thought of dating Ingrid makes his skin scrawl. No offense to Ingrid, but Sylvain can really only see her as a sister. Or maybe an annoying mother-figure who likes to nag at him a lot about every little thing he’s doing wrong in his life. Plus Ingrid’s not really into guys anyway, if the way she eyes Dorothea from the Black Eagles House is anything to go by.

“Yes! Her!”

He gives a small sigh. Ingrid has been around him more often, but it’s because she’s trying to fix his questionable lifestyle, as always, and figure out what’s been bothering Sylvain recently. But Sylvain thinks he’s rather die than let anything too personal or depressing plague the thoughts of his friends or fellow classmates. “Ingrid isn’t—”

“Shut up!” Her shrill voice fills the air and effectively drowns out Sylvain’s protests. “I don’t care what you say she is. I _know_ you’re dating her, and I know you left me for her. Well, guess what, Sylvain?” She grins, her lips twisted up with vengeance. “I have something for you cheating on me.” She shuts her eyes and starts murmuring something.

Sylvain is admittedly a little more terrified than he probably should be.

He tries to side-step the girl, but her hand shoots out, an iron-grip around his wrist as she murmurs louder. It appears to be some sort of spell she’s reciting. The air around Sylvain grows thicker, grows colder, grows darker. It slowly, slowly encases him in a suffocating, black cloud, wrapping around him and forcing itself down his throat, leaving a bitter taste akin to swallowing ashes behind. Sylvain yanks at his arms and tries to push Elaine off him, but the girl is stronger than she lets on. Sylvain coughs and wheezes as a black cloud shrouds around him. The girl finally lets him go, and Sylvain blindly stumbles around to try and escape whatever curse she put on him. He hears her laughing triumphantly—cackling like a witch.

“Be a good boy now, Sylvie,” she taunts, and her shrill cackling and the clicking of her heels against the hardwood flooring fade into the distance.

Sylvain tries to follow the sound of her voice, his hands blindly grasping at anything and everything in front of him. But with each step, he only feels lighter, dizzier, weaker. He feels a door and grasps the doorknob, only to find it locked. He slams his fist into the wood and chokes out a cry for help, but the physical exertion sends his body into a coughing fit from the black fog smothering him.

Before he knows it, he’s fallen to the ground, unconscious.

-

Another day of relentless training, another day of adequate results—but it’ll have to do for now. After all, it’s time for dinner. He leaves the training grounds and finds Ingrid waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“Felix,” she greets with a small, terse nod and a small frown. She pushes away from the wall and steps towards him, uncrossing her arms. “Have you seen Sylvain? I’ve been looking for him all day, but I can’t find him anywhere.”

Felix makes a face. “No. I’m not his babysitter. Why would I know where he is?”

Ingrid stares at him for a painfully long second, her expression unamused. “Because you always know where he is,” she says, as if it’s obvious.

“No, I don’t.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes and shoots him a flat look. “I’m just going to assume he’ll be there at dinner. Come on. I don’t want our food to get cold.”

Felix scoffs. “It’s always food with you.”

“And it’s always training with you,” Ingrid retorts easily. Felix gives a noncommittal hum, but he indulges Ingrid and walks with her to the dining hall, letting her chat about whatever she wants and giving a monosyllabic response when he feels like he has something to add.

The dining hall is lively as ever, especially with the rowdy Golden Deer table practically brimming with chaotic energy like they always are. Tonight, it seems that Lysithea, chugging a bowl of soup, is hellbent on proving _something_ to Claude, who eggs her on along with the rest of the class. The Black Eagle table is relatively reserved, save for the excited shouting of Caspar and the weird, homoerotic tension between Ferdinand and Hubert with poor Edelgard wedged between them, though she seems content to ignore it as she eats. And the Blue Lions are doing what they usually do, Felix supposes.

Ashe is happily talking with Dedue about something while Dedue politely nods along, and Annette and Mercedes are chatting together as they always are, ever inseparable. Dimitri is talking with the professor, though his eyes keep wandering elsewhere. But that’s none of Felix’s business.

Felix and Ingrid grab their dinner and take their usual seats near Dimitri and the professor. The professor’s attention is drawn away from Dimitri, which allows the boar prince to focus his attention on him and Ingrid. Felix pointedly ignores Dimitri’s polite greeting, and Ingrid elbows him, though it won’t make Felix want to look at Dimitri any more.

“Have either of you seen Sylvain?” Dimitri asks aloud, though it seems to be aimed mostly towards Ingrid, seeing as she’d be the only one of them who is willing to answer. “Someone left me a letter to deliver to Sylvain.”

Embarrassingly, Felix’s initial reaction is to think, _Great, another love letter for Sylvain._

He quickly chastises himself. It’s not like he cares about Sylvain’s stupid love life. If anything, he’s pretty sure he’s feeling anger at how he’s leaving behind another mess for him, Dimitri, and Ingrid to clean up and maybe some sort of pity for the poor girl Sylvain’s got wrapped around his finger this time. Sylvain’s skirt-chasing has never really sat right with him, though he was never sure why.

No, that was a lie. That was one of the biggest lies he’s ever told. He knew exactly why, but he’d never admit to anyone, including himself.

Ingrid shakes her head. “I’ve been looking for him too,” Ingrid answers. “Felix says he doesn’t know where he is either.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows shoot up in that painfully genuine way of his. “Not even Felix?” He ignores the way Felix glares at him. “That’s rather odd. Felix usually knows where Sylvain is.”

“That’s what I said.”

Felix, pointedly keeping his gaze away from Ingrid and Dimitri, flicks his gaze to the empty seat in front of him, where there is a remarkable absence of a certain annoying redhead. He isn’t sure why Ingrid and Dimitri are so worried though. Sylvain is always hanging around his posse of girlfriends so maybe he went to go eat with them. It wouldn’t be the first time. Even if he were late, it wouldn’t be the first for that either. Just them being all paranoid is making him uneasy.

“Talk about something else,” Felix grumbles. “It’s not like Sylvain magically disappeared, just because you can’t find him. That blockhead will turn up eventually.”

That seems to ease Dimitri’s concerns since he starts chatting about something else, though Felix can still feel Ingrid’s unease to his left.

-

Felix manages to swallow down whatever food he had on his plate, washes up, and makes his way to the dorms. He wrinkles his nose as he goes up the stairs. A cloying scent fills the air, and there is some sort of black, powdery residue on the ground and clinging to the walls. Felix prods the tip of his boot at a pile of the powder curiously.

 _What the hell happened up here?_ Felix thinks as he leans down to look at the residue. If he were any dumber, he’d probably touch it with his hands, but he’s smart enough not to do that. Instead, he studies it from a distance. The residue sparkles slightly. _Weird._

Felix shakes his head and stands back up, heading to his room, though his legs bring him to a stop in front of Sylvain’s door. Felix steels himself to put up with Sylvain’s typical tomfoolery and knocks at the door. There’s no response. He’s not hiding out in his room. Something twists uncomfortably in his chest at the thought of Sylvain’s room devoid of Sylvain humming to himself or just flipping through the pages of a novel he found in the library, but he ignores it.

Then maybe he’s hiding in that boar’s room. Sylvain’s off-handedly mentioned how he sought refuge from angry women by ducking into Dimitri’s room. Felix doesn’t particularly want to talk to Dimitri, but he’s genuinely curious about Sylvain’s whereabouts too. So he takes a deep breath and raises a fist to knock at the door.

The door opens before Felix can knock, and he’s embarrassed to admit that he almost immediately feels disappointment when he doesn’t see Sylvain sitting in Dimitri’s room. Dimitri stares at him, his blue eyes wide and earnest as always.

“Felix? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Felix snaps, his response clipped.

There’s an awkward pause of silence. He isn’t quite sure how to justify himself since admitting to looking for Sylvain would only mean he’s concerned about the idiot, and there’s not really an excuse he can realistically use for wanting to get into Dimitri’s room. Dimitri, shifting uncomfortably, opens the door a little wider and steps aside.

“You’re welcome to come in, if you’d like,” offers the boar prince, his voice a touch too gentle for Felix’s liking. “We can talk about whatever’s on your mind. I can make time.”

That brings Felix back to his regular self. “I’d rather die than come into your filthy pigsty,” Felix huffs and takes a step back.

Dimitri only smiles at him. “Oh, Felix.” He shakes his head. “Goodnight then.” Dimitri steps back and closes the door with a comical amount of restraint. The door manages to slam anyway. Dimitri opens the door and quickly apologizes to him before shutting the door again, ignoring how loud it is.

Felix sighs. That boar prince and his demonic strength. Felix shakes his head and ditches Dimitri's room to go to his own room and stops when he sees a dark orange tabby napping peacefully in front of his door. It’s a peculiar cat, its fur dark enough to pass as a red. If anything, it almost reminds Felix of Sylvain’s hair.

Felix tosses a look over his shoulder for a quick glance around the hallway. No one is around. Good.

Leaning down, Felix gently pets the tabby's head, running his hand between the cat's ears. Initially, he wasn’t going to wake the cat at all, leaving it to sleep wherever it pleased, but he figured opening and closing the door might wake the cat anyway. The tabby meows drowsily, blinking slowly and looking up at him.

“Come on,” he says, voice low in case anyone happens to be listening. The walls in the dormitories are rather thin. “Be a good cat and sleep somewhere else. I need to get to my room.”

The cat blinks at him, a little more lucid.

Felix stands up. _Hm. Stubborn little thing,_ he thinks, trying to keep fondness out of the voice in his head. _But aren’t all cats? Well, at least it’s awake now._

Felix unlocks the door and opens it, stepping over the cat. The cat meows and gets up on its legs shakily, wobbling as it tries to follow him in.

“No. Stay out.” Felix starts to close the door, using his leg to try and block its path.

The cat squeezes its way in anyway, yowling noisily at him. Felix sighs. He reaches down to pick up the cat, but it meows loudly again and paws at him. Felix draws his arms back with a wince, looking at the scratch the cat left. Thankfully, the scratch left behind is barely visible. Hardly even hurts.

“You can’t stay in here.” Felix opens the door and points, as if it would understand. He feels dumber by the second. “Get out. Get _out_ already. I don’t have any snacks for you.”

The cat jumps up onto his bed and pads around on his pillow. Keeping eye contact with Felix, it unceremoniously flops its entire body down on the pillow. What a smug little fucker. Felix gives an exaggerated sigh but concedes, shutting the door.

“You’re leaving first thing tomorrow. I don’t want any more of your stupid fur on my stuff than is necessary.”

Felix gets ready for bed and climbs into the bed, careful not to jostle the cat too much. A pissed off cat isn’t a great bedmate, he’s sure. However, as if it can sense his intentions, the cat hops off his pillow and settles for the foot of the bed. Felix lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling of his dark room.

His thoughts always seem to wander back to Sylvain, even though he tries his hardness just to shut his brain off and go to sleep. Just where in Fódlan is he? It isn’t often that people quietly disappear off the face of the planet, hidden from the eyes of even his best friends. This is especially strange considering it’s Sylvain, ever sociable and clingy. It’s hard not to notice him with his bright red hair, his height, his bright—but painfully fake—smiles. He draws attention wherever he goes, and unfortunately, he’s caught Felix’s attention too.

The way he’s been acting as of late was also quite strange. His smiles looked even more strained, even to people who weren’t as close to him as Felix. He wasn’t as talkative at mealtimes. And he didn’t even seek out Felix to bother him anymore—if anything, it felt like Sylvain was actively avoiding Felix. Felix has an idea as to why Sylvain was acting like that, but he’s unsure as to why it bothers him so much. It almost hurts seeing Sylvain pretending he didn’t exist. Maybe it does hurt. It’s not like Felix knows anymore. Feelings were never his strong suit.

But isn’t Sylvain doing what Felix has been telling him to do this entire time? Felix kept telling him to go away, to stop bothering him, to stop wasting his time. Sylvain avoiding Felix is him doing what Felix asked of him, but it feels so wrong. It feels inexplicably _bad._ He kind of wants Sylvain to stop messing around and come back to bother him.

He’d never admit that out loud though.

-

Sylvain doesn’t completely hate his predicament. Sure, getting cursed really sucks, and yeah, being a cat has its drawbacks—like his inability to talk and his lack of opposable thumbs—but it also has its benefits too. After all, he’s way more agile and he’d probably attract _way_ more girls like this. Plus, he gets to see this soft side of Felix that he hardly ever sees anymore. Who knew he had such a soft spot for cats? It’s probably since he’s so much like them.

He would, however, really like to have his old body back.

So, as soon as Felix wakes up and opens the door, Sylvain bolts out of the room, running from all his frustrating emotions, thoughts, and Felix. He needs to find the girl that cursed him and somehow convince her to switch him back. He makes his way to the courtyard, already lively with students wandering about and socializing, and he tracks down Elaine, who is sitting on a bench, chatting with her friends.

Sylvain parks himself right at Elaine’s feet and meows loudly, hoping that his feline face can convey all of his annoyance and frustration. _For the love of all that is holy, switch me back you wretched witch of a woman,_ Sylvain internally snaps.

“Oh, hello, kitty.” Elaine reaches into her pocket and takes out a small treat of some sort. She tosses it to him. When Sylvain doesn’t immediately pick up the treat, instead of opting to glare at her, she frowns. “Not hungry?” Then she pauses, a wicked grin forming on her face. “Oh. You’re no ordinary kitty, are you?”

Her friends seem to be content with carrying on their conversation without her, ignorant to how she grins maliciously at Sylvain.

 _Switch me back,_ Sylvain huffs at her, though all that comes out is a series of shrill cat noises. _Switch me back and give me back my stupid human body already._

“I’m sorry, kitty. There’s nothing I can do for you. You have to do this all by yourself,” she says, voice lowered so her friends don’t hear. “All by yourself. Isn’t that so lonely? None of your girls to keep you company, hm?”

 _What are you talking about? What do I have to do? Why can’t you just switch me back already?_ Sylvain tries to contort his face into a scowl, but all he can manage to do is narrow his eyes in a glare.

Elaine doesn’t elaborate, ignoring him, even as he paws at her and meows loudly. She and her friends eventually leave for the mess hall, the girl shooting Sylvain another malicious smile as she leaves.

Sylvain chases after her, but he loses her in the busy bustle of the morning crowd at the mess hall. Instead, his eyes are drawn to his class, where the Blue Lions are gathering at their table. He watches as Felix sits down beside Ingrid, that permanent scowl on his face as he picks at his food. He walks over to the table and feels his stomach grumble. He wonders if he can convince any of his classmates to feed him some scraps because he refuses to hunt for monastery rats to eat.

He knows Ashe typically slips cats food, seeing as there are already a few cats under the table near Ashe’s feet. He joins the other cats at Ashe’s feet and watches as his pale, freckled hand subtly comes under the table, dropping a few scraps of meat on the ground. Before Sylvain can even react, the meat is all gone. Yet, the cats, ever insatiable, stay and wait for more.

It’s probably unlikely that he’ll be able to steal from those hungry cats so he tries begging at Annette and Mercedes. Annette is the first one to notice him and scoops him up into her arms with a grin.

“Oh! Hiya, kitty! Good morning!”

 _Morning, Annette._ Sylvain does his best attempt at a wink.

“My, my! What a cute cat,” Mercedes coos, reaching over and petting his head. “I don’t think we’ve seen this one around, huh, Annie?”

“Nope! He’s definitely new. He’s kind of darker than the other tabbies around. He’s almost red! And his eyes! They’re different too.” Annette scratches behind his ears, and Sylvain leans a little into the touch. Man, who knew girls loved cats so much? And who knew being petted felt so damn good?

His gaze wanders to the table, but to his dismay, Annette and Mercedes were both practically done with their breakfasts, their plates barren of anything but a handful of crumbs and a few splotches of some sort of sauce.

“Maybe he’s new,” Mercedes muses, smiling sweetly. “He may have snuck in through the gates to the monastery.”

Annette squeezes him gently in a hug and sets him back on the ground. “Go on and do some exploring then, kitty!”

Sylvain lets out a small huff through his nostrils and goes to pester another Blue Lion. He lies the front half of his body down against the floor, letting his butt do a little wiggle, before he manages to hop up into the seat where he usually sits, right beside Dimitri. Said prince looks over at him and brightens a little.

“Oh? Hello there, little one.”

Ingrid looks over and smiles. “Oh, hey. It’s the same color as Sylvain’s hair.” There’s a bittersweet tinge to her words, her smile just barely masking the concern.

Then it hits Sylvain. His friends don’t know what happened to him, don’t know where he is. For all they know, he’s gone missing, never to return. This especially isn’t good considering that Flayn had just been found after going missing.

Sylvain jumps up. Maybe she could help him convince Elaine to switch him back if Ingrid can actually recognize that he really is Sylvain, not just some ordinary cat. He scrambles onto the table and saunters over to her, pawing at her arm. She only gives him a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow.

“He must be hungry, Ingrid!”

Ingrid wrinkles her nose. “Sorry, cat. This is my food. Plus, I’m pretty sure you can’t eat this stuff anyway.” She gently pushes him away when he starts to nose at her plate.

 _Ingrid, for Sothis’s sake, just give me your food,_ Sylvain pleads exasperatedly. _I’ll literally give you my share of dinner and even my dessert if—no, not if but_ when— _I get my body back. I’m starving._

“Sorry,” Ingrid repeats, pushing Sylvain away with one hand as she eats with the other. “You’re not going to get anything from me.” Eventually, she puts her fork down just to scoop Sylvain up off the table and set him on the floor.

He droops a little and flicks his tail, frustrated. He makes his way back to Dimitri, but Dimitri is giving him the same wary look that Ingrid was. It’s unlikely the prince would give him food either, huh? Well, he supposes that’s expected, but mostly because Dedue probably wouldn’t allow it, saying something about how cats shouldn’t eat human food.

If Ingrid and Dimitri won’t help him, then he has to pester a different Blue Lion, the only one from his childhood friend group that he hasn’t bothered—enough—just yet.

He’s a little reluctant to turn to Felix for help, but he isn’t completely stupid. He knows that Felix only sees him as some random cat. Putting aside any bad feelings between the two of them, Sylvain paws at Felix’s pant leg and meows loudly. Felix looks down at him and frowns.

“You again, huh?”

“You’ve seen him around?” Ingrid asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen this one in particular, but then again, I can’t tell them apart. There are dozens of cats that look just like him on the monastery grounds.” She shrugs.

 _No, Ingrid, you’re entirely right. I’m a new cat. I’m not even supposed to be a cat._ Sylvain ignores his thoughts and settles for batting at Felix again.

Felix, ignoring Ingrid, sighs and indulges Sylvain by tossing him a big slice of ham. “Here,” he grunts. “Take it. I’m not hungry anyway.”

“Felix?” Ingrid says quietly.

Felix stands up and leaves without a word. Sylvain wonders where Felix is going, but he has more important, tastier matters to tend to.

-

Even at breakfast, Sylvain wasn’t there. Where could he have gone? Felix’s grip on the training sword in his hand tightens. What kind of disaster has he gotten himself into? Or was he just _that_ good at avoiding Felix? Had what Felix said to him really gotten to him?

Felix shakes his head. No, he can’t be that affected. Felix has definitely said worse to Sylvain, he’s sure. Yet, even as he trains, he can’t help but to think back to the last conversation they’d had together—the one he’s pretty sure is what led Sylvain to evade his long-time best friend.

_A few weeks ago, Felix had been practicing a new sword technique he learned in the training grounds when Sylvain had shown up, his grin bright like the sun despite the bright red hand mark across his cheek. Felix didn’t say anything, but Sylvain knew that Felix knew that he was there—and they both knew that Felix wasn’t going to do anything about it._

_"Hey, Felix, buddy,” Sylvain says casually, strolling over and tossing an arm around Felix’s shoulder, which Felix immediately swats off him._

_"What do you_ want, _Sylvain?” Felix asked, exasperated. “I’m busy being productive with my life, unlike you.”_

 _Sylvain feigned a look of hurt. “I_ am _productive, Fe,” Sylvain had insisted, folding his arms behind his head. “We’re just productive in different ways.”_

_"And how are you productive? All you do is break hearts and make messes for the rest of us to clean up.” Before Sylvain can interject, Felix continues, “You even got that damned boar in on your schemes, trying to hide in his room.”_

_A frown spreads across Sylvain's face. “He’s just helping a friend out. I mean, you’d do the same, right? We’re friends, right?” He shakes his head, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Or, are you just being bitter because you’re jealous of all the attention I’m getting from the ladies?”_

_"I’m not jealous.” Felix sheathes his sword and crosses his arms, glaring at Sylvain. “What are you trying to get from me?” he asks, voice dangerously low._

_In typical Sylvain fashion, the redhead only gives a childish pout and whines, “Geez, Felix. I don’t want anything. Can’t a guy just check in with his best friend?”_

_"Who says we’re friends?”_

_Those words escape his mouth before he can even stop them, and Felix watches as Sylvain flounders, his honey-colored eyes earnestly wide and vulnerable. Before Felix can make a weak attempt at backpedaling—because really, he never meant that, and he thinks that he would never, ever be able to mean that—Sylvain masks the flash of hurt across his face with a small smile, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s the same kind of smile he gives to charm or appease his adoring posse of girlfriends._

_"Yowch, Fe. That hurts.” Felix doesn’t even have a chance to say anything as Sylvain barrels past the comment. “But if you really want me to stop bothering you, then I guess I’ll get out of your hair.”_

_Just like that, Sylvain is gone, and weeks of Sylvain subtly avoiding Felix began._

Felix can’t help but to think that his harsh, spur-of-the-moment words are the thing that caused Sylvain’s disappearance. But Sylvain should know better to take those words seriously. After all, it feels like Sylvain knows Felix better Felix knows himself. After literal years of friendship and growing up together, Sylvain should know that Felix says things he doesn’t mean, that Felix can’t quite say the things he feels, that Felix has trouble being honest and kind to everyone around him.

Felix pushes the thoughts of Sylvain out of his head with a firm shake of his head and focuses his gaze on the training dummy before him, unaware of the fact that Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue are watching him with concerned frowns from the entrance of the training grounds.

-

Sylvain sneaks into the classroom, where Professor Byleth is sitting at his desk as he goes over to his lesson plans for the day. Already, Mercedes and Annette are huddled in the front at a table, chatting amicably. Ashe sits behind them, looking over his notes and mouthing the words he reads to himself. Class begins soon, doesn’t it? Well, Sylvain promised Ingrid that he’d make an effort to show up to class more often so he figures he could sit in on today’s lecture—after all, Professor Byleth seems to like cats. He might as well stay until he can figure out how he’s going to reverse this curse.

Sylvain sneaks past the other students and their bookbags, legs, and desks. With a small huff, he manages to leap up into his chair and sits patiently. No one seems to notice him until Dimitri, Dedue, Ingrid, and Felix take their seats. Dimitri and Dedue sit in front of him, Ingrid behind him. And Felix sits to his right. An oddly withering feeling makes itself at home in Sylvain’s chest, but he quickly ignores it.

When Byleth gets up to the front of the class, his expressionless face is graced with a small smile, his eyes settling on Sylvain. The other students look to Sylvain’s seat and laugh when they spot Sylvain the Cat there instead of Sylvain the Human.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Annette coos. “Can we keep him here? He’ll raise morale!”

“He looks just like Sylvain,” Ashe comments with a smile.

“Of course he can stay,” Professor Byleth deadpans. “That’s Sylvain. He’s enrolled in this class, isn’t he?”

 _Scarily on the nose, Teach,_ Sylvain thinks as a round of laughter fills the air. _But maybe you can be the one to help me out of this mess? I promise I’ll stop passing notes in class if you do._

The lecture begins. Sylvain, happy for the fact that he’s excused if he doesn’t actually pay attention, watches his classmates. Ingrid and Dimitri are working hard taking notes, raising their hands to ask or answer questions. Dedue silently takes notes, his handwriting as ridiculously beautiful as ever. Annette, Ashe, and Mercedes are writing down what they have to but passing notes at the same time—if Sylvain strains his eyes, he can see that they’re passing around little lines for the next person to make into a full drawing. It looks kind of fun. Sylvain mentally makes a note try and join them when he gets his body back.

Everyone seems to be behaving how they normally do. Except Felix.

Felix stares at his blank sheet of paper with this odd look in his eyes. Sometimes, his gaze will flicker over to Sylvain’s seat, but it would quickly drift back to his paper.

 _Aw,_ Sylvain thinks bitterly, _he misses me._ Then he’s quick to think, _Well, I guess he only misses me because I lend him my notes sometimes. Like he said, we’re not friends, are we?_

Sylvain knows better than to take those words to heart, but lately, he’s been thinking a lot. Some would say that it’s an impressive feat for him, but those are the people who hardly know him. Just like everything else about him other than his Crest and his dashing good looks, his intelligence is ignored.

Either way, intelligent or not, Sylvain’s been thinking. He’s been in a weird funk since Miklan’s death. Even with his older brother out of the picture, he can’t stop reflecting on the things Miklan did and said. He can’t just escape these thoughts like he usually does, which is flirting with the monastery girls. The girls, especially after they find out about his nature or after he breaks up with them, only seem to echo Miklan’s words—that Sylvain’s just a useless, heartless piece of shit who happily ruins lives just by existing. How can he escape Miklan’s cruel words when they’re hurled at him from his supposed distraction?

Now, Sylvain’s always had a bit of tough skin. His upbringing as a noble—and his constant abuse from his brother—forced him to develop it pretty early. Usually, these comments would bounce right off the façade he’s built up over the years with only a handful that actually hurt; he saved those for when he was alone at night so he could reflect on them for a bit. But Miklan’s death was just jarring and oddly bittersweet. He _must_ be heartless, right? He killed his own monstrous brother with his own two hands, not even a single tear to be found anywhere on Sylvain’s face. If anything, Sylvain felt _relief_ and _joy_ that his dreadful brother was finally dead. Was Miklan really the monster here or was Sylvain?

Even Felix, his best friend, hates him. Sylvain thought they were on good terms, even with Felix’s callous way of showing affection or appreciation, but Felix outright telling him that they weren’t even friends hit a sore spot. If the boy who knows him best—who knew him best since they were kids, who always understood him, who would spend as much time as he possibly could at Sylvain’s side—thinks he’s just a useless, heartless nuisance, then it must be true. Sylvain isn’t sure what he’s done in his past life to earn himself such a lonely existence, damned to be profusely hated by the ones closest to him and shallowly loved by people he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about, but he wants to give a deep, heartfelt apologize to the goddess for it, though he’s doubts it would change anything.

Felix shuffling his notes drags Sylvain’s attention from his messy thoughts to the real world. It seems that class has been dismissed, seeing as half the class is gone already. His friends, however, are still around, talking with each other and the professor. Sylvain watches as Felix tosses his belongings in a bag, slings it across his shoulder, and sighs as he leaves, pushing past Ingrid and Dimitri.

Sylvain knows he shouldn’t keep following someone who hates him, but he’s never been able to stay too far away from Felix anyway. He hops out of his chair and trails behind Felix, careful to keep distance between them. Thankfully, he knows where Felix is probably going to go.

“I can’t believe him,” Ingrid is saying, which makes Sylvain linger by the door. “Sylvain’s _still_ not anywhere to be found. Doesn’t that idiot know that we’ve been looking for him?”

“I find it quite odd too, Ingrid,” Dimitri replies, looking exasperated. Sylvain thinks that it’s kind of funny that Dimitri would have to put up with Ingrid’s wrath, now that Sylvain is gone. He’d expected her to go bother Felix before coming near His Highness.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but isn’t this kind of a big problem?” comes the soft voice of Mercedes, drawing the blondes’ attention to her. “It’s a little concerning that Sylvain would go missing right after we find Flayn, who had also just gone missing.”

Ingrid’s eyes widen, and Dimitri’s expression becomes stern.

“Oh. Oh no. Do you think something’s happened to Sylvain?” Ingrid flicks her gaze at Dimitri and then the other Blue Lions.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ashe quickly cuts in with a worried frown. “Sylvain is a very capable fighter. He’d never just _get_ kidnapped, don’t you think?”

“Why would anyone want to kidnap Sylvain anyway?” Annette muses, cocking her head.

 _Hey, I’m a very desirable person,_ Sylvain wishes he could joke, just to see his friends stop being so concerned. _Who_ wouldn’t _want to kidnap this redhead mess?_

“He has a Crest,” Dedue mentions. “Perhaps they wish to acquire the power associated with his Crest.”

“For labor or something?” When Dedue nods, Annette wrinkles her nose. “The way you phrased it made it sound like—like people want to tear it out of his body or something! That sounds like it would hurt a lot.”

 _Yeah, no kidding._ Sylvain lets a shudder run through his body. _A Crest isn’t exactly a tangible thing, Annette. I don’t think they could even do that painlessly._ He pauses thoughtfully. _But if I could tear this damn Crest out of me somehow—_

Dedue’s deep voice pulls Sylvain’s thoughts from sinking anywhere too dark. “I am not sure,” says he, shaking his head.

“Lighten up, everyone,” Mercedes chirps, giving them all a small smile. “Like Ashe said, Sylvain is a very talented fighter. And he’s very smart too. Don’t you think he would have left us a clue of some sort about where he is?”

Ingrid blinks. “Oh. I had never really given that a thought. Has anyone gotten a letter or anything from Sylvain? Any sign of him leaving?”

Practically everyone shakes their heads no. Perhaps Sylvain should learn how to write using his dumb cat paws. He could make everyone a lot less worried—and maybe convince them to help him get his body back. But a sick, twisted part of him likes to see that his existence is just _that_ meaningful to his friends, to see that people really do like him and need him around, even if it’s for something as trivial as getting a letter delivered or having someone to nag at.

“Oh, Professor Byleth!” Dimitri gives a wave.

“Professor.” Dedue bows his head slightly.

Annette and Ashe jump. Behind them was the professor, quietly observing their conversation.

“Goddess, Professor!” Ashe squeaks out, laughing breathily. “You scared us!”

“It’d be nice for you to say something,” Annette huffs. “You disappear and reappear just—just like a ghost! It’s honestly a little freaky, you know.” She smiles nonetheless.

Ashe pales. “A ghost?”

“Sylvain’s been missing since yesterday,” Ingrid explains, pointedly ignoring Ashe’s little comment. “I looked for him everywhere yesterday, and he missed dinner as well as class.” The professor forms a little ‘o’ with his mouth and looks like he’s about to say something, but Ingrid cuts him off. “Felix doesn’t know where he is either.”

 _And why would that matter?_ Sylvain wonders. _He never cares about where I am. He doesn’t care about me, period._

“I see.” The professor presses his lips into a small frown. His expression bears the slightest hint of concern. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him around either.”

“But you go all over the monastery!” Annette squeaks. “If you haven’t seen him, then…”

“Then this is a bigger issue than we thought,” Ingrid finishes quietly. She straightens her posture. “Professor, may I suggest that you bring this to the attention of Lady Rhea? I think she’d be concerned about this too.”

“It’s likely that she would send the Knights of Seiros to search for him,” Dedue adds. “It would be of great assistance.”

With that, the Professor gives a quick nod. “I’ll see what I can do. For now, please look for him and give us all updates if you find him.” He moves to leave but falters. He adds a quiet, “Be safe, everyone,” before he makes his way out of the classroom.

The Blue Lions all share a weary look but start splitting up into groups, unaware that Sylvain was in the room and that Felix was just outside, listening to the entire conversation.

-

Within hours, the monastery grounds are a chaotic mess filled with gossiping students and knights, going around questioning the students and professors. There are signs about Sylvain pinned up on the bulletin boards around the monastery. Certain areas are blocked off for investigative purposes. And once word reaches Sylvain’s family, there’s no doubt that Gautier soldiers will be marched down to aid in the search. For now, the Knights of Seiros and the Blue Lions are at the forefront of the search, checking every nook and cranny for Sylvain—though Sylvain, curiously following his classmates around, really doubts he could realistically fit in the kitchen cabinet that Annette and Ashe are currently trying to crawl into.

Sylvain feels weird about this whole thing. He still wants his body back, don’t get him wrong, but seeing people actually care about him feels a little nice. On the other hand, he hates how much trouble everyone is going through. As if he didn’t cause enough trouble for people just by existing. Plus, all this gossip seems to be a safe outlet for people to badmouth Sylvain—more than they already do, anyway.

“He makes out with anything that moves,” murmurs a Golden Deer to her Black Eagle friend. “Maybe he just found someone just as sketchy as him and decided to leave Garreg Mach?”

"He makes girls cry just for the hell of it,” a Blue Lion, who Sylvain remembers flirting with, tells her current boyfriend. “He deserves to go missing.”

“Why do we even bother looking for someone who just hurts others?” a Black Eagle huffs, crossing his arms as the Knights of Seiros interrogate him. When that comment puts him under stricter scrutiny, he holds his hands up defensively. “Okay, listen, I don’t personally know the guy, but I know that all he does is flirt and make girls cry. And I know that no respectable human would voluntarily do that without reason.”

 _Ouch,_ Sylvain thinks. _Is this really the reputation I’ve built for myself?_ Immediately, his mind supplies him with, _Of course it is. I knew what I was getting into when I built up that act._ But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

By dinner, a tense atmosphere settles in amongst the students. An unvoiced question seems to radiate off all the students: Who’s next to go missing? Even the Golden Deer seem a little down.

At the Blue Lions’ table, it is almost completely silent on the end with Sylvain’s friends. Ingrid hardly touches her food. Dimitri excuses himself early, and Dedue loyally follows. Annette leans against the right side of Mercedes, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips twisted into a frown. Ashe leans against Mercedes’s left. Mercedes comfortingly puts her arms around the two, but she herself still seems concerned. And Felix…

He never showed up to dinner. Sylvain finds Felix at the training grounds, beating the absolute life out of a training dummy. He looks—plainly put—awful. He looks like he’s been training nonstop since class was dismissed hours ago. That can’t possibly be healthy.

Before he can think twice, Sylvain saunters over and rubs his side against Felix’s pant leg. Felix stops, panting, and looks down at him.

“Go away,” he grunts, nudging Sylvain with his leg. “I don’t have food for you.” He brushes his pant leg with a scowl. “Now your stupid fur is stuck to me.”

Sylvain sits in front of the training dummy. Surely, he wouldn’t hit an innocent little kitty-cat just because he wants to train, right? Sylvain hates how even though Felix had said those hurtful words to him, he still cares about him—just like he used to care about Miklan, despite the abuse.

“Go away,” Felix repeats, shoving his sword into the sheath at his belt as he pushes at Sylvain. Sylvain only hisses in responses. “Get lost already.”

 _Wow, hating me even while I’m a cat,_ Sylvain thinks. _You’re awfully consistent, aren’t you?_

“Felix?”

Both Felix and Sylvain look at the entrance to the training grounds, where Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue stand.

“What?” It’s phrased more like a statement, flat and uninterested. But his voice is anything but flat; it brims with anger and frustration, vitriol bubbling up in his voice. It's clear that even if he tries to seem apathetic, something is bothering him and bothering him immensely.

“You should eat.” Ingrid takes a few steps towards Felix.

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s okay to be worried about Sylvain,” Dimitri says, following in Ingrid’s footsteps as he carefully approaches Felix like a wild animal. Sylvain just knows Felix won’t take that well. “But you need to take care of yourself.”

Felix’s eyebrow twitches slightly. “Shut up, boar,” he snarls, stomping towards Dimitri. His hands are balled up into tight fists at his sides. “I’m _not_ worried about Sylvain, and I _said_ that I’m not hungry.”

Dedue quickly steps between Dimitri and Felix, but Dimitri taps Dedue on the shoulder lightly, as if to appease him. Dedue flicks his gaze between Felix and Dimitri, but Dimitri gives him a small smile. Dedue nods and steps beside Dimitri again.

“It’s okay to be worried,” Dimitri repeats.

“I said—”

“Shut up, Felix,” comes Ingrid’s exasperated huff. “We’re all worried about Sylvain. At least a little. Even the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer are."

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

Ingrid glares at him.

"He’s got a point,” Dimitri says quietly, hesitantly. “The Black Eagles and the Golden Deer don’t exactly have anything to do with him.”

Ingrid glares at Dimitri.

Dimitri smiles, something small. “But yes, I understand what you’re trying to say, Ingrid.” He turns to Felix, his expression a little more solemn. “You can pretend that you hate Sylvain all you want and that you don’t care about him, but you have to admit that this situation has you a little worried. After all, he's one of your closest friends.”

Dedue nods. “This is a threat to all students at the monastery. Flayn and Monica have only just recently been rescued. If Sylvain has been abducted by the same people, there is no telling who they would be after next.”

Felix goes quiet for a second, his angry expression softening the slightest bit. Sylvain wonders what could be going on inside his head. Felix gives a small huff.

“Like I said.” He turns back to the training dummy. “I don’t care.” He strikes it a few times with his training sword.

“This is a serious matter, Felix!” Ingrid snaps at him, raising her voice. “I don’t know what Sylvain said to you to upset you this time, but you need to put whatever petty fight you had with your boyfriend for the time being!”

 _Boyfriend?_ Sylvain balks as his brain crashes to an ungraceful halt. A clipped noise escapes his mouth, but no one cares to look at him right now. He stands up and circles Ingrid’s feet. _Elaborate. Boyfriend? Felix and me? A couple? Elaborate, Ingrid Brandl Galatea._ Ingrid pays him no mind, gently nudging him away with her leg.

"B-boyfriend?!” Felix splutters, his cheeks turning red. Maybe it’s just Ingrid’s words getting to his head, but Sylvain admits that Felix looks kind of cute with that blush painting his cheeks. Felix stutters and stammers before spitting out, “Sylvain’s not my fucking boyfriend! What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Fine, your not-boyfriend or whatever. I don't care what you want to call your relationship.” Ingrid flips her hand dismissively at him. “The rest of us care about him, and I know you do too, even if you say that you don’t.”

“I’m serious, Ingrid. He’s _not_ my fucking boyfriend,” Felix stresses at her, but realizing his words are falling upon deaf ears, he quickly casts his gaze to Dimitri, who is smiling a little at him. “Don’t bare your filthy teeth at me, boar,” Felix huffs, but his words hold a lot less heat when he’s blushing like that. “You think this is funny?”

“Yes, actually.” Dimitri laughs, something soft and happy. Dedue himself looks like he’s on the verge of smiling. Instead of breaking his façade, though, Dedue averts his gaze. “I never really thought about it like that, but when Ingrid says it like this, I could very much see you and Sylvain dating. I mean, you two are always hanging around each other, and you two are much closer than any of us are.”

“We don’t hang out. And we aren’t close.” Felix flounders for words. “I—we—this—” He gives a frustrated growl, throwing his hands up in the air, and storms out of the room.

“Perhaps I took that a little too far?” Dimitri says, though nothing about his expression shows any guilt.

Ingrid only snickers. “At least we got him to stop moping around in here.”

“Right,” Dedue adds. “It’s likely that we got him to eat now.”

“Which is what we came here for in the first place.”

Ingrid grins, but her eyes are a little sad. “Mission accomplished then, huh?”

Sylvain nudges Ingrid’s leg. _Boyfriend?_ He meows at her. He’s still stuck on that whole thing. She was just going to brush over that like it was nothing? She was just going to pretend that her little comment didn’t just flip Sylvain’s world upside-down and ignite something weird and fuzzy and _warm_ in Sylvain’s chest?

"Oh! Hey, little guy.” She runs a hand over his fur. “Were you in here to bother Felix too? We saw you distracting him earlier.” She smiles at him. “Good boy.”

Sylvain purrs. _I’m a good troublemaker, aren’t I?_ Now to go and cause trouble by getting Felix to offer him some food.

-

Felix picks at his food. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but he left to get the boar, his lapdog, and Ingrid out of his hair. He figured that if he at least pretended to eat, they’d leave him alone.

His head is swarming with thoughts, and it is with much regret that most are about Sylvain—the fact that he’s still missing, that even the greatly revered Knights of Seiros are having trouble finding him, that Ingrid and Dimitri think that he’s dating Felix. Goddess, that last one haunts him.

 _Boyfriend?_ Felix thinks incredulously. _They think I’m dating that idiot? Impossible. That would never happen; not in this timeline, not ever._

Ye, at the same time, the smallest, _smallest_ part of him wishes that they were dating.

He briskly shakes his head and looks down at his plate. He hears a soft chorus of meows from underneath the table. As per usual, the cats that managed to sneak past the people working in the dining halls are begging for food, it seems. How can they act like everything is just fine when Felix feels like his world is on the verge of collapsing?

"Here,” he mumbles aloud, scraping as much sauce as he can off a slab of meat before slipping it under the table. “Take it and leave me alone.”

The rest of the night makes him uneasy. He visits Sylvain’s room once again, only to find it empty. He wisely opts not to ask Dimitri about Sylvain, especially given that the boar seems to think that they’re dating. He heads straight to his room, though he pauses when he sees a cat lying in his bed, nestled comfortably in his bed.

“Cat,” he groans quietly. “I do not want to put up with this tonight.” He pulls the covers off the cat, making it blearily blink awake as it looks up at him and gives a soft meow. “Out.”

The cat sits up but makes no movement to leave.

“Just go already.” Impatient, Felix prods at the cat with his hands in a _shoo!_ motion. The cat swats at his hands with its paws. It didn’t quite scratch him, but it seems that the cat isn’t willing to leave. He’s not about to let this cat sleep in his room.

Come to think of it, isn’t this the same cat that was bothering him the night before? It must have taken a liking to him when he fed it. Perhaps he should be more wary about feeding cats, especially if they’re about to constantly follow him around and beg for food.

Felix moves to pick up the cat, who puffs up a little and bats at him again, this time scratching him along his forearm. Felix winces as he draws back. It isn’t a deep scratch or anything, but it was enough to cause a few droplets of blood to pool along his arm.

“You’re a stubborn fucker,” he says to the cat, as if it could understand him, “but I’ll let you stay tonight and that’s it. Got it?”

The smug bastard meows at him and even has the audacity to make room for Felix on the bed after he lightly wrapped his newly acquired wound and changed into sleepwear—as if it owned the bed and was ever so generously offering him a small sliver of the bed to sleep on. Felix gives a small, exasperated huff through his nostrils as he looks up at the ceiling of his dark room.

In the safety of his room, out of the sight of Dimitri and Ingrid and anyone else, Felix lets his mind wander back to Sylvain. Sylvain, who understood him better than anyone else—even Glenn. Sylvain, who pestered him time and time again with that stupid smile on his perfect face, framed by his tousled red hair. Sylvain, who once promised his life to Felix, claiming in his squeaky kid voice that he’d never leave Felix’s side and that they’d die together.

Felix knows that he should just admit that he really likes Sylvain. After all, telling Sylvain that he didn’t only seemed to scare him away into avoiding him. In fact, it’s likely that in his attempts to avoid Felix, Sylvain ended up getting himself into some sort of trouble. Felix caused Sylvain to go missing. And now, Sylvain is nowhere to be found, under the presumption that Felix hates him when it’s the complete opposite.

It terrifies Felix out of his mind to think that Sylvain could be in serious danger. He had overheard a few kids talking about him earlier that day and felt his heart stop for a second when one of them suggested that Sylvain had died and that their search was a lost cause. The mere thought that Sylvain could just stop existing had made his body go numb, the world stopping around him and turning grey. It couldn’t be. Sylvain _had_ to still be alive.

He can’t imagine what Sylvain was thinking when he disappeared—no, that’s a lie. Just like Sylvain knows Felix best, Felix knows Sylvain better than he knows anything else. He knows him better than he knows fighting, than he knows the story of King Loog that he read hundreds of times with Glenn, than he knows his own family. He knows Sylvain. He knows what he was thinking. He just can’t bring himself to face what he made him think.

Sylvain has always been the type of person to hide away his genuine thoughts and feelings, terrified of getting hurt. Even when they were little, Sylvain would always opt out of telling Felix what was wrong, instead fussing over the younger boy. At the time, Felix reveled in getting all of Sylvain’s attention and his concerns, but he’d always wanted to make Sylvain feel happier. He could see how his expression twitched ever so slightly when they talked about their families or their older brothers. Since then, Sylvain has gotten better at hiding those kinds of reactions, but Felix knows that Sylvain still hurts a lot. And he knows that the mission the Blue Lions had gone on to stop Miklan must have hurt like hell, dredging up old memories.

Sylvain must have thinking something stupid and self-deprecating. He must have been thinking about how his impact seems to only be negative, considering his reputation as a heart-breaking flirt and a general annoyance. He must have been really hurt by what Felix had said. Felix just hates that it took him this long to realize just how much his impulsive retort had hurt.

But Felix can’t help but to want Sylvain to come back for selfish reasons. For starters, it lets Felix enjoy Sylvain’s stupid presence. However, Sylvain’s mere presence gives him a sort of hope, a feeling of protection. If Sylvain is visibly in sight, somewhere on the monastery grounds, then Felix knows that Sylvain hasn’t broken the promise they made as kids by dying on his own, dying a terrible and lonely death like Glenn did.

Felix can handle Sylvain avoiding him. He can handle Sylvain leaving him. He thinks he can even handle Sylvain hating him. But he could never, _ever_ handle Sylvain dying. It would break his heart; it would break his spirit; it would break _him._

Felix runs a hand over his face and gives a frustrated grunt. They need to find that redheaded idiot and soon. His mental state really can’t handle any more of this.

For now, he just wants to get some sleep. He’s exhausted from training so much and running from his feelings all day. He’s definitely going to be sore in the morning. On the bright side, being this tired meant that sleep would come to him easily.

-

_Felix finds himself staring at a disfigured silhouette staggering towards him. The person before him is his older brother, Glenn, mercilessly mutilated from his last battles before his terrible death. Glenn is covered in all sorts of wounds with arrows sticking out of his rotting and bloodied flesh and cuts so deep that Felix can see bones and organs. He feels sick to his stomach seeing Glenn like this._

_“Felix,” Glenn croaks out, and Felix shuts his eyes helplessly, ignoring the heat that floods to his eyes as he crumples to his knees on the ground. The corpse of his older brother continues his stilted limping towards Felix. Felix cringes at the wet sound of Glenn choking when he tries to speak again._

_"I’m sorry, Glenn.”_

_It’s all he could ever say whenever he saw the ghost of Glenn like this. What else could he say?_

_"You let this happen.”_

_That’s new. Typically, Felix would hear Glenn’s ghost begging for him to save him, for him to come for him. He’d hear Glenn crying out for help, for vengeance, his agony tangible as he screamed his throat raw. Sometimes, he’d even hear Glenn yelling for Felix to run away, to find shelter, to be safe. He’s never had Glenn blame him for his death._

_Felix opens his eyes to stare at his older brother. Glenn is towering over him, his expression unreadable partially because of the night sky and partially because there’s hardly anything even left of his face anymore._

_Glenn?” Felix meekly whispers._

_"You let this happen,” Glenn repeats, his voice hoarse and low._

_"I’m sorry,” Felix rambles, absolutely dumbfounded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I-I couldn’t, I know—”_

_"No, Felix.” Glenn reaches out a hand and rests a hand on Felix’s head. “I’m not talking about what happened to me.” He turns a little and points. Felix follows Glenn’s gaze, and his heart stops at what he sees._

_Another mutilated ghost, here to haunt him—but this one is distinctive from the tousled red hair. It’s Sylvain. Sylvain with an axe cleaving his head into a bloody mess. Sylvain with a smattering of bruises that cover up the freckles that lightly dust his cheeks, his chest, and the tops of his shoulders. Sylvain with his wrists tightly chained together._

_This doesn’t feel like a dream. He knows it is one—he really does—but seeing Sylvain so battered and_ dead _feels like a painful wake-up call. His heart sinks like a rock._

_"Sylvain?” Felix scrambles to his feet. “Oh Goddess! S-Syl! No, no, no.”_

_Sylvain doesn’t move when Felix approaches him. Perhaps it isn’t a ghost but a corpse. Felix grabs Sylvain’s hands and tries not to vomit when he feels how cold they are, how slick they are with his own blood. Felix squeezes Sylvain’s hand and immediately regrets it when he finds that Sylvain’s missing a few fingers and several fingernails._

_"Say something,” Felix chokes out. “Sylvain! Please! You can’t just—you’re not…” Felix feels cold, feels numb—just like he did when he learned about Glenn’s death. Only Sylvain isn’t here to hold him and comfort him this time._

_Felix jumps when Sylvain starts to move, pulling his hands away from Felix._

_"Well, you finally got what you wanted,” Sylvain says quietly, in that joking tone he uses when he’s trying to make a situation seem less serious. Felix hates it. “You hate me. Now I’m dead. I can’t bother you anymore.” He gives a breathy laugh. “A few friends of Miklan caught up with me. They weren’t all that happy to see me since I—y’know—killed Miklan.”_

_"We all killed him," Felix tries to tell him. "It's not all your fault." He shakes his head. That's not important. "This isn't want I wanted. This isn't what I wanted at all!"_ _Felix swears on Glenn, on his father, on_ Sylvain, _that he’s going to kill every last one of Miklan’s despicable friends and make them feel every second of pain that Sylvain did before he died. Distantly, he wonders if he and Dimitri are really all that different._

_“You idiot! I don’t hate you!” Felix feels traitorous tears slip out of his eyes. “I don’t hate you! I never did! I love you!”_

_Sylvain gives a soft chuckle. “It’s okay, Fe. You don’t need to lie to me.”_

_"I’m not lying! Sylvain!” Felix can’t help the desperation slipping into his voice. “Stop playing around! You’re not dead! You can’t be! You—you! Y-you promised. You promised.”_

_"Oh, Felix.” Sylvain raises a hand to Felix’s face. “You always were a big crybaby.” Sylvain presses his lips into a small smile. It hurts seeing that smile; Felix can tell it’s genuine, soft, strained. “Sorry for breaking our promise. Never thought it was that important to you.”_

_"I’m sorry,” Felix whispers. “Goddess, I’m so fucking sorry, Syl. This should never have happened.” He clenches his eyes shut. “Syl… You were supposed to die with me, not alone. I—”_

-

Felix jolts awake, silent tears rolling down his face as his chest quickly heaves and stutters with his sobs. It takes him a minute to catch his breath, to get his bearings. He’s in his room at Garreg Mach. By the looks of the sky through the window beside his bed, it’s around midnight. And there’s a cat lying on his chest, meowing incessantly at him. It must have been the cat that woke him up.

Felix still feels too shaken to process anything so he lets his actions speak in place of his words. He pets the cat, his hand trembling. The cat leans into his touch and purrs softly.

 _It’s just a bad dream,_ he firmly tells himself. _Sylvain is okay. It’s just a dream._

“It’s just—just a dream,” he whispers aloud, his voice heavy with sleep and shaky with terror. Saying it out loud does very little to dispel his worries about Sylvain, but it still helps the tiniest bit so he keeps talking to himself. “Sylvain is okay—he’s okay. He’s alive. He has to be. It’s just a dream.”

That's it. Felix has to find Sylvain. As soon as possible.


	2. The Relieving Return of Sylvain Jose Gautier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sylvain makes a few revelations and gets his body back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for reading my fic! It's mind-blowing to me how many people read this and left me kudos and/or sweet little comments!! The comments are all really nice and leave me feeling so happy and sofd,, you're all so super sweet and it really makes my day whenever I read your comments,, I'm so happy that I can have fun writing and make some of you happy too! ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) 
> 
> Please excuse the chaotic pacing of this chapter. I did this between classes at uni so it may feel stilted at some parts. I also just kind of let my thoughts go wild so I might have rambled a bit too much in some parts. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

After swiftly changing into some light armor and strapping his favorite sword to his belt, Felix ties his hair into its typical messy bun and grabs his backpack. He flips it upside down and dumps its contents out onto the floor, notebooks and sheets of paper and a few quill pens unceremoniously toppling out and _clunking_ and _thumping_ as they hit the floor. He grabs a coat and an extra set of clothes, neatly packing them in his bag alongside a smaller sword. With a small huff, he slings the backpack over his shoulders and heads to the door.

The whole time he’s packing and preparing to leave, his one-track mind stays focused on Sylvain, on finding the redheaded fool, on bringing him home safe and sound. His thoughts bounce from _clothes_ to _sword_ to _bag_ and finally settle on _food._ He plans to sneak out to the dining hall and grab himself a ration to last him on his journey. If anyone catches him and asks him what he’s up to, he’ll just make up some lie about wanting to get some practice in and spend some time at the training grounds. It’s believable. He’s Felix, after all.

He has half a mind to scribble a note on some scratch sheet of paper about where he is. He doesn’t want to start some huge catastrophe because he went missing right after Sylvain did. He knows his classmates wouldn’t be able to handle it. He gives a quick glance over his note before placing it on his desk and opening the door.

A meow startles him out of his thoughts.

Felix looks down at sees that red cat scrambling out of Felix’s sheets and collapsing near his feet, tummy up. It meows at him and paws at the air, knowing damn well that it looks adorable. He gives a sigh and indulges the cat in a few tummy rubs before carefully stepping over the cat. It follows him, even as he shuts and locks his dorm’s door.

Felix waits a beat. There’s hardly any noise in the dorms. Most students are asleep, as they should be, considering that it’s roughly the middle of the night. However, while Dimitri’s room appears silent and dark, Claude’s room has the light on, and he can hear him humming softly to himself. Nothing to be worried about though; it’s unlikely that Claude will pop out of his room and try to stop him. Felix silently walks past Claude’s room and Lorenz’s room with no problem. The cat’s tiny footsteps patter behind him.

The Black Eagles appear to be asleep too—save for Hubert, since Felix and a majority of the monastery think that he doesn’t ever sleep, but if Felix minds his own business, Hubert will mind his own too. Hopefully. He sneaks past them as well as Hilda and Marianne without any trouble, making his way towards the stairs.

His ideas come to a crashing halt when he sees that Ingrid is awake. The light in her room is on, and Felix can hear her rustling around in her room—though what she’s doing is unclear to him. Ingrid has always had rather acute hearing. If Felix made too much noise as he left, Ingrid would be sure to pop her nosy head out and try to stop him from leaving—or worse, she’d tag along and make things difficult since he’d have to watch over himself _and_ her.

Felix steels himself. Scenes from his gruesome nightmare tear at his sanity; thoughts of Sylvain dying claws at his heart. He can’t just stop here. He has to go out there and look for Sylvain seriously. It seemed like no one cared that much that Sylvain had just up and disappeared, like other students thought that life would be better without skirt-chasing, heart-breaking Sylvain. Well, Felix cares. And he cares an embarrassing amount. _If you want something done right,_ Felix thinks to himself as he forces one foot in front of the other, _you have to do it yourself._

Felix looks behind him and sees that the cat is still a few paces away. He isn’t sure how Ingrid would react if she heard a cat outside her door, but he’s desperately hoping that she wouldn’t care enough to open up.

Tiptoeing his way to the stairs, Felix carefully sets one foot in front of the other. Yet, right as he reaches the end of the hall, the cat suddenly starts to wail, meowing over and over as if he's calling for someone to come and get him. Felix feels his heart sink into his stomach, and for a brief second, he swears the breath is knocked out of his body. He whips around to stare at the cat, who won’t stop its incessant meowing.

 _Traitor,_ Felix thinks bitterly as he makes a run for the stairs. _I let you stay in my room, you ungrateful prick_. He hurries down the stairs, ignoring how Ingrid’s door squeaks open. By the sounds of her sleep-deprived, “Felix?” Ingrid must have already seen him. Maybe if he keeps running, she won’t pursue him.

Felix manages to get to the first floor of the dormitories pauses, pressing himself against the wall. He hears the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and footsteps on the stone pavement.

Shit. The guards. He forgot about them. How could he forget? Lady Rhea had assigned more soldiers out for night patrol, claiming that they would keep other students from going missing. Now, they’re walking towards him, all the while Ingrid is drowsily stumbling down the stairs.

He needs to act fast. And luckily, he comes up with a plan. He unsheathes his sword and grits his teeth as he draws it across his forearm, enough to draw a good amount of blood. Then, he stuffs his sword back into the sheath and rushes to Mercedes’ room. Surprisingly, she’s still awake, and surprisingly, the door is unlocked.

He bursts it and shuts the door behind him. Two pairs of eyes stare up at him, surprised.

“Felix?” Annette squawks. “Oh, gosh, you’re bleeding! What happened?”

“Oh dear. Come here. Let me help you.” Mercedes stands up from her bed, where she was sitting with Annette. She gently takes a hold of Felix’s uninjured arm and leads him to the bed before letting her hands hover over his wound. He lets out a small sigh of relief at the cold healing magic, a feathery-light touch against his wound. The cut closes up quickly and seamlessly, as if it had never been there. “There. All better. Now, please, tell us what happened, Felix.” Her eyebrows are drawn together. “Is there someone after you?”

“No, nothing like that. I was, uh, training—trying out some new techniques.” Felix sighs. “I was just careless.”

Annette huffs. “Why were you out training so late? It’s past curfew!”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “I could be asking you the same thing, Annette. You should be asleep. In your own room.” Annette blinks at him and smiles sheepishly.

“Alright, enough bickering, you two," Mercedes murmurs, chuckling at the two. She turns her gaze to Felix. “You could have knocked before you came in, you know. You scared the living daylights out of Annette!”

“Yeah! You just burst in here with that cut on your arm and you were almost out of breath! I thought we were getting invaded or something!”

Felix shakes his head. “I wasn’t really thinking. Sorry.”

“And why come here? I’m sure Manuela would have been willing to help you.” A pause. “Actually, I don’t know about that. She might not even be in her office since she goes out pretty late sometimes.”

“Well, Lady Rhea put a temporary ban at leaving your room after midnight,” Mercedes reminds her. “She’d probably be in her room.”

“You were just closer,” Felix tells them. He stands up. “Thanks for healing me. I’m going back to the training grounds.”

“What if a guard catches you?” Annette frowns at him. “You’re not supposed to be out right now.”

Felix shrugs. “Won’t let it happen.”

Mercedes opens her mouth to speak, but she stops abruptly when there’s a knock at her door. Mercedes looks back at Annette and Felix before going to answer her door.

Mercedes opens the door. “Oh! Good evening, Ingrid. Or, rather, good morning.” She gives a soft giggle.

“Hi, Mercedes. Have you seen Felix? I think I saw him outside.”

“Oh, he’s with us.”

Felix curses internally as Mercedes lets Ingrid in. Ingrid is holding that damn red cat in her arms. The cat meows and wriggles until she puts him down. Then, he happily trots over to Felix and nudges his leg with his head, purring.

“What are you doing here, Felix?” Ingrid frowns at him.

“Hey, Ingrid! Felix was out training and he got hurt,” explains Annette, reaching down to pet the cat at Felix’s feet. “So he came to Mercedes to get healed.”

Ingrid narrows her eyes at Felix. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s what happened,” Felix insists. But he’s never been a very good liar.

“Well, now that you’re healed, go back to your room. We have class tomorrow.” Ingrid crosses her arms. She looks over at Annette. “You should probably get some rest too,” she adds, gentler.

Annette wilts. “But Mercedes and I were reading a really fun story together!” She perks up. “Ooh, maybe you should join us, Ingrid! I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to—because you might be sleepy or tired—but it’s really interesting!”

Ingrid shakes her head and gives Annette a small smile. “Sorry. I think I’m going to head to bed.” She casts her glance at Felix. “And Felix should too.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Felix begrudgingly says his farewells to Annette and Mercedes before he and Ingrid step outside. The door clicks shut behind them.

“Talk.” Ingrid crosses her arms. “I know you aren’t going out to train.”

“What makes you think that?” Felix crosses his arms too, glaring at her.

“You brought your bag. You usually don’t bring that when you’re going to train.” Ingrid’s harsh glare relaxes a little. “Felix, don’t tell me you were trying to do what I think you were.”

Felix shakes his head. “I wasn’t. I said I was trying to train, and I meant it.”

To his surprise, rather than grill him even more for being out past curfew to supposedly try and train, Ingrid just heaves a small sigh and uncrosses her arms. He didn’t notice how tired she looked until just then, dark circles starting to form under her eyes and her hair a mess. She rubs her arm and averts her gaze. “Whatever. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“Fine.”

Felix lets Ingrid lead him to his room, and he pretends that he’s going to bed. But the second he hears Ingrid’s door click shut from down the hall, he silently opens his door and sneaks out again. Without that cat around to bring Ingrid’s attention to him, Felix is able to pass by Ingrid’s room with no trouble.

When he enters the mess hall, he’s relieved to find that no one else is there. He opens his backpack and grabs his canteen, filling it with water. Then, he raids the cabinets for any food that he could bring along with him on his travels to find Sylvain—a loaf of bread or two, some jerky, maybe some cheese, and even a few containers of nuts among other things. His bag feels a lot heavier now, but he’s finally ready to the leave the monastery to search for Sylvain for at least a couple of days.

-

Sylvain has a _bad_ feeling about this. Sure, he had bad feelings about being turned into a cat in the first place, and yeah, he _definitely_ felt bad about watching Felix writhe around in his sleep, whimpering and whispering apologies before he jolted awake to the sound of Sylvain frantically meowing at him to get up. But he feels even worse about this all now.

He’s currently locked up in Mercedes’s room with her and Annette. They haven’t paid him much mind, sitting on Mercedes’s bed and continuing to read some sort of story together. He knows he shouldn’t be in here though—he has to stop Felix from leaving. That stubborn blockhead is going to go on some wild goose chase, traversing all over Fodlan and getting himself into trouble, when Sylvain is right here, has always been here all along.

It seems that alerting Ingrid to Felix’s intentions didn’t seem to do anything, though Sylvain is a little concerned at how much Ingrid seems to be beating herself up over this all, looking uncharacteristically haggard. Sylvain makes a mental note to give Ingrid a big apology and soothe her with some of her favorite meats when he gets his human body back.

But he first needs to go and take care of Felix, make sure that he isn’t out somewhere getting himself hurt or killed because of his unfortunate circumstances.

He claws at the door and meows loudly at Annette and Mercedes.

Annette looks over at him. “Kitty,” she scolds gently, “it’s too late for you to be making all that noise.” She hops out of bed and pads over to him, scooping him up. “Maybe you’re just cranky because you need sleep.” She smiles at him and starts to carry him to the bed, where Mercedes is watching with a soft smile.

Sylvain pushes his paws against Annette and wriggles, but she holds him still with a surprisingly amount of force. It seems that all her axe training with the professor is starting to pay off. Sylvain doesn’t want to hurt her, but he _really_ can’t stay here much longer than necessary. He unsheathes his claws as a warning, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Annette hums as she obliviously tucks him into Mercedes’s bed, which smells of vanilla and _pink._ Sylvain has no idea how a color has a smell, but he can’t think to describe it as anything other than _pink_.

Sylvain crawls out of the blankets that Annette piled on him and hops back to the door, meowing and scratching at the door.

“Maybe he wants to go outside,” Mercedes suggests, standing up and opening the door. Sylvain, who had his face practically pressed up against where the doorframe meets the door, darts out of the room and makes his way to the monastery gates as fast as he can.

Just as he gets there, he can see Felix throwing a leg over a horse and getting up on top of it. Sylvain, even though his entire body aches and feels _oh so tired_ from running around and getting so little sleep, meows loudly at him— _Felix, wait, please!_ —and runs after him, but Felix has already gotten his horse into a full gallop and is disappearing into the forest. Sylvain runs as far as he can, but after a while, it feels hopeless. He could never outrun a horse, even with his lithe cat body.

Sylvain plops himself down at the monastery gates and balks. What can he do? Just what can he do in this stupid cat body to bring his friend— _his_ not- _friend,_ he reminds himself with a small wince—back to the monastery, safe and sound? He’s always been watching over Felix, ever since they were little. How can he watch over him, keep him safe, make him smile, when he’s so far away?

Sylvain should have listened to his friends. His flirting causes trouble. He finally gets it. He knew it was stupid and hurtful to him and the girls and even some boys, and he knew that it was a bad idea since it causes trouble for himself and his friends, but he finally gets it. It just took potentially losing a friend for him to get it. He just _had_ to go and be a dick to some girl who just wanted an honest love life, just _had_ to get cursed, just _had_ to send his friend on a search with an impossible outcome. Who knows how long Felix is going to be out for? Who knows where he even went?

Goddess, and now everyone at the monastery is going to be worried about Felix disappearing too. What has he done?

 _Damn it,_ Sylvain curses to himself, feeling every little strand of fur on his body rising against his body. _Damn it, damn it, damn it! Damn it all!_ _Why? Why am I so—so useless? So stupid? So worthless? All I ever do is ruin lives!_

Sylvain makes himself take a deep breath—two, three, four. Count to seven. Release. And he does it again.

 _Felix is a very capable fighter,_ Sylvain rationalizes. _And he’s smart. He’s probably made some plan about how he’s going to go about this, not just impulsively run around and start fights._

Still, why can’t he quell the anxiety in his chest? Why does it hurt him so much to think of Felix going out in the middle of the night by himself to look for him? And why does he feel kind of funny when he thinks of the lengths that Felix is going for him, when he thinks of how Felix called out his name in his sleep, when he thinks of Felix going red at Ingrid calling Sylvain his boyfriend?

-

Elaine’s week has been going pretty well. She’s passed her last exam with flying colors, even earning a compliment from the professor. She’s got a new boyfriend, one who cares about her and seems genuinely enamored with her. She’s even got a hang of that new lance technique that they’re learning in class—the one that makes all of her friends moan and groan about how they’ll never quite master it. She’s feeling great.

She gets up early this morning to finish up a few chores in the greenhouse, lending a hand to the greenhouse keeper. With the time she has, she idly wanders over to the marketplace. She looks over a few of the wares, chats with a handful of merchants, and stops dead in her tracks when she hears a cat’s loud wailing. She knows there are lots of stray cats and dogs on the monastery, and they make quite a racket all the time, but this sounds different than what she typically hears around on the grounds.

She finds the source of the noise just outside the gates near the marketplace—a red cat, crying out towards the forest. Elaine recognizes it as the cat she turned into Sylvain.

The cat’s ear swivels towards her as she steps towards it cautiously. Sylvain whips around to her and cowers at her feet, still meowing loudly. Elaine furrows her brows. She’s seen a few cats do this in her village, typically when its companion—whether it be human or another cat—passed away. He must be mourning—though for what exactly is unclear.

Elaine crouches and pets him. “Hey,” she says quietly. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

He keeps whining and whimpering, but he pushes ever so slightly into her hand. She opens up her bag and takes out the small container of cat treats she always keeps with her. She removes one treat and lies it in front of Sylvain. Sylvain doesn’t take it. He doesn't even look at it or even sniff in its general direction. 

Elaine feels kind of bad for him. Yes, he toyed with her heart and made her feel like a fool, and yes, he treats all girls with the same careless disrespect, but truly, she feels bad for him. She can't imagine what it would be like to be stuck in a body where no one can understand you, where everyone treats you unlike how they treat one another. Perhaps it’s her streak of good luck making her feel more forgiving and sympathetic; perhaps it’s just her caring nature. She just feels bad for him, and she’s decided that Sylvain’s had enough, that maybe he learned his lesson.

“Sylvain,” she says, and the cat looks up to meet her eyes. “Sylvain, I’m sorry. This…” She furrows her brows. “This isn’t right. I want to change you back.”

Sylvain’s ears perk up, and his pupils dilate. Elaine bites her lip.

“But the thing is… I… I don’t really know how.”

His ears droop.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I really don’t know.” She sighs. “I learned the spell from this one shady merchant who was at the marketplace.” She reaches down and pets Sylvain. He lets her. “The merchant saw me crying after you broke up with me, and he offered me this scroll with the magic spell on it. He didn’t give me the spell to reverse it—it was sold separately and I didn’t have the money then. I just bought this one.” Elaine rifles through her bag and retrieves a crumpled up scroll with an odd sigil scrawled onto it.

She smooths it out and lies it on the grass in front of Sylvain. “He wasn’t there today,” she says, “but to be fair, I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe he only comes at certain times.”

Sylvain walks over to the scroll and peers down at it. She notices his tail starting to bristle as his back arches a little. When his claws pop out of his little, fluffy paws, Elaine quickly picks up the scroll and sets it back in her bag.

“Hey. No. We need to keep it,” she tells him. “It might help us find the guy who sold it to me.”

Sylvain’s posture returns to normal. He slumps on the ground again, letting out another one of those mournful meows. Elaine pets his head again.

“We’ll find him, and we’ll get you turned back. I promise.” She pauses. “But for now, I’ll take care of you, okay?” She slowly approaches Sylvain, giving him time to run away if he doesn’t want to stay with her. When he stays in place, slumped against the ground with an impossibly sad look to his eyes, she gently scoops him up into her arms and carries him back to her dorm.

-

Felix’s proficiencies never lied in riding—that was more of Sylvain and Ingrid’s type of thing. Felix mostly relied on his own legs and his sword. But here he is, riding a horse for hours, heading up to Faerghus to search for clues of where the hell Sylvain Gautier could have gone. His legs are numb, his thighs ache, and he feels like he hasn’t slept in literal years from how long he’s been traveling—but he can’t just stop here. He has to keep going. So he does.

Honestly, if he stays awake, the chances of him having that terrible nightmare again decreases. He shudders at the thought of it. He has to live with the vivid memories of the nightmare and his own frustrations at his inability to talk to Sylvain like a rational human haunting him, but they aren’t as bad as they could be. He can tolerate this. He can, and he will.

He pities his poor horse, though. She had been sleeping quite peacefully until he snuck in there and led her out. She came without any protests; Felix expected it. Her temperament tends to be quite gentle and mild. He gives her a few pets along her mane, a silent apology.

He rides until the sun starts to peek out over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and red. Felix’s heart clenches a little when the red of the sky reminds him a little of Sylvain’s dumb, red hair, meticulously combed and methodically tousled. Pushing his poor horse a little more, he rides, desperately holding onto the hope that Sylvain’s family knows about Miklan’s band of thieves—hoping they’ll be able to get past the initial shock of being asked about Miklan and hoping that they’ll cooperate.

By sometime, still pretty early in the morning, he manages to just barely make it past Charon. He finally decides to have some mercy on his horse when he gets to the nearest village past Charon but not quite to the Galatea lands. He leads her to a nearby river and lets her get her fill of water, petting her and handing her one of the apples he swiped from the dining hall. Meanwhile, as she eats, he looks over at the village.

Despite how early it is, people are already starting to come out of their homes to get a start on the day. A few farmers are out, working on their fields and tending to their livestock. A few merchants are setting up their stands and arranging their goods on them in the marketplace at the center of the village. People who are out pay Felix little mind, occasionally glancing over at him. Since they’re near the border of Charon and Galatea, they must be used to travelers.

Perhaps Felix will stay here a little longer, nab a quick meal to last him some more and give him and his horse both some much needed rest before heading out. The thought of sleeping in a soft, cotton bed practically puts Felix to sleep standing on his feet. He shakes off the lingering tiredness enough to walk into the village, looking for a nice inn that will also give his horse a place to rest.

-

Ingrid taps her foot impatiently. She’s been standing outside Felix’s room for a while now, and the monastery-wide wake up call has already been issued, the loud bell echoing throughout what feels like all of Fodlan. She knocks hard—once, twice—before giving a frustrated sigh.

“Felix, you’re going to miss breakfast!” she hollers through the door. “Get up already!”

"Good morning, Ingrid.”

Ingrid watches as Dimitri steps out of his own dorm, looking all tidy and perfect. She feels a little bad that she doesn’t look quite as presentable as him, with her hair all disheveled and her skin a touch paler than usual. She pushes aside any feelings of embarrassment.

“Good morning, Your Highness.” Ingrid winces. “Ah, I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Dimitri smiles at her. “Oh, no worries. I’ve been awake. After all, most everyone should be by now.” He casts his glance to Felix’s door; Ingrid follows his gaze. “Felix hasn’t come out yet?”

Ingrid shakes her head and gives a sigh. “I was debating breaking down his door.”

Dimitri frowns. “Let’s not jump to conclusions and rash decisions now, Ingrid." He steps up to the door and knocks. “Felix?” he tries gingerly. Then, a little louder, “Felix? It’s Dimitri and Ingrid. Can you please wake up?”

Silence.

“Hmm. That's interesting. I was thinking he’d get all riled up if he heard my voice, but it seems that he really isn’t responding.” He furrows his brow.

Ingrid has a sinking feeling that she knows what is going on here, especially considering Felix’s mediocre lying skills and his strange behavior from the night before. Without wasting a second, she lifts her foot and slams it down on the door before Dimitri can object. With a resounding _bang_ , the door slams open, and Ingrid and Dimitri both peer in.

Felix isn’t in his bed. In fact, he isn't anywhere in the room. And the room is an utter mess, clothes and swords and papers all over the floor with the bed unmade and 

Both Ingrid and Dimitri scramble into the room and share a wide-eyed look of terror.

“Where could he be?” Dimitri asks aloud.

Ingrid feels her blood boiling. “That Felix…” She spots a note lying on Felix’s desk, dead in the center with all his other belongings haphazardly pushed away from it, forming a halo of stationery and school supplies. It was clearly placed there to be seen. Ingrid snatches the sheet up and reads it, Dimitri peeking over her shoulder to read it.

 _Went to look for_ Sylvain, the note read, and Ingrid can practically hear Felix’s voice, flat and irritated, narrating this short and simple little notice, _Don’t bother looking for me. I’m fine._ His signature is hastily scrawled at the bottom of the scrap of paper. Ingrid seethes with anger, her hands trembling.

“Ugh! How could he just—just leave like that? Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is to travel alone like that? Anything could happen!” Ingrid clenches her hands into fists, the paper crinkling unceremoniously in her hands.

“This is very concerning,” Dimitri agrees, “but let’s remain calm. I’m sure the professor will know what to do.”

Ingrid nods. “Yes. Yes, let’s go show him this letter.”

 _Please be okay,_ Ingrid thinks to herself, though from the nervous energy she feels radiating off of Dimitri, she can tell that she isn't the only worried one. _Please just be okay._

Ingrid and Dimitri zip out of the dormitories, nearly trampling a few other students in their haste, and burst into the dining hall, where Professor Byleth, eating with Ashe and Dedue, is taking small bites out of his breakfast.

“Professor!” the two call out in unison; the odd and unplanned synchronicity of it has them glancing at each other immediately afterwards, eyebrows raised. They both shake their heads and turn their attention back to their teacher.

Professor Byleth turns to them. His typical, neutral expression turns concerned, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips turning downwards ever so slightly, when he sees Ingrid and Dimitri panting for breath as they approach the table. Ashe stares, wide-eyed with confusion, while Dedue abandons his breakfast to stand at Dimitri’s side, assessing the situation and the health of his lord.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He stands up, his hand immediately going to the hilt of the iron sword strapped to his belt. His eyes scan the room for any threats—sharp, cold, and calculating.

Ingrid practically thrusts the paper into his hands, which brings his attention back to the students before him. Scanning over the note once, twice, and then thrice for good measure, Professor Byleth’s expression quickly becomes concerned. He folds the sheet up and tucks it into his pockets.

“We have to look for him,” says the professor, frowning. “With all that’s been happening around here, we really can’t tell what’s happening.” He turns to Dimitri. “Get the Blue Lions prepared for combat. We’re leaving the monastery soon. But don’t tell anyone. We can do this ourselves.”

“But Professor, do we not need to tell Lady Rhea?” Dimitri frowns too. “Would she not need to know where we went? What if she gets worried about us?”

“Then I’ll tell her that we went on a field trip for training experience. My father can vouch for us. She'll understand, I'm sure.” Professor Byleth dismissively waves his hand. “Meet back up with me at the monastery gates.”

The monastery is a-buzz with frantic energy as the Blue Lions quickly assemble and grab their tomes, axes, swords, lances, bows—anything they think that they might need on their search. Annette even brings along a small sack of snacks, and Mercedes tries to pack a lunch for the group before Ingrid pulls her out of the kitchen with an impatient huff. 

At the monastery gates, Professor Byleth leads them out, though to where he isn’t quite sure. He looks around the landscape, as if he would see a visible trail left by Felix.

“Geez, I really hope we can find him,” Annette mumbles. “We already kind of lost Sylvain—we don’t need to lose another Lion!”

“He haven’t lost Sylvain! He’s fine!” Ingrid snaps, and Annette jumps, huddling closer to Mercedes with her eyes wide. Mercedes pats Annette on the head and turns her gaze to Ingrid, not quite angry but definitely not happy—she just looks disappointed, or maybe concerned. Either way, it makes Ingrid feel a little bad. After a beat, Ingrid’s expression softens, and she averts her gaze. “Sorry. I’m just..” She shakes her head. “I’m on edge.”

“It’s okay, Ingrid!” Annette cheerily replies, lightly bumping her with her elbow. She smiles at her, drawing a weak smile from Ingrid in return. “We’re all worried for Sylvain.” She grips her tome closer to her chest. “I guess I could have worded that a little better, huh?”

"We’re all a little on edge,” Ashe pipes up. “This is a really scary thing that’s happening.” He bites his lip. “I just wonder what’s going on.”

“Maybe it’s a ghost,” Mercedes tells him, looking entirely too sincere with her eyes wide. Ashe pales. “A ghost that snatches up naughty students and takes them away, never to be found. Who knew they were coming to get us at the monastery?” She chuckles when Ashe trembles lightly.

“Mercedes!” Ashe yelps. “D-d-don’t joke a-a-about that k-kind of thing! Ghosts are—they’re real, and they’re—” He shakes his head. 

“Please focus,” Dedue gently reprimands, but something about his gaze denotes a soft sort of amusement with Ashe’s concern and the way that Ashe is currently gripping his arm. “Ashe, no ghosts will get you.”

“Yeah!” Annette chirps. “You’re not a naughty student!”

“Annette! That’s not helping!”

“Professor,” Dimitri says, casting a look tinted with the slightest bit of exasperation and disapproval. Once he has the professor’s attention, he continues, “Might I suggest that we begin our search in Faerghus? Felix would likely want to begin his own search for Sylvain in a land that both he and Sylvain are familiar with. If anything happened, he’d also have easier access to his or Ingrid’s family for help.”

Professor Byleth nods. “Good idea. We’ll start our search in Faerghus, then.”

-

Felix managed to hunt down a relatively cheap inn that had a nice stable for his horse. He decides on taking a short power nap and letting his horse rest her legs before heading out to the marketplace and checking up on his food and water.

The room is nice—neatly furnished and homey, despite how it’s a tad smaller than the dorms back at the monastery. The bed is soft, and the pillow is plush. Even so, Felix can hardly sleep, even once he’s closed the blinds, even once he’s removed his armor, even once he’s undone his bun. He lies in bed and tosses and turns. He can’t get comfortable. Not with his heart uncomfortably racing in his chest.

If he sleeps, then the nightmare might come back. If he sleeps, then he’ll waste time that he could be using to look for Sylvain. If sleeps, then Sylvain will—

Not even an hour passes before Felix, still running on nothing but the feeling of sheer will and desperation, pops out of bed, throwing his armor on with a heavy sigh and tying his hair. He leaves his rented room and slings his bag over his shoulder. He ignores how the innkeeper curiously watches him as he leaves.

He figures his horse would need more rest than he does so he decides to spend some time down at the market. He could restock on food or water, and maybe if he asks around enough, he’ll find someone with information on Miklan and his gang. Plus, there are cute cats lingering around the marketplace, and he can watch children playing at the market, waving around wooden swords and wearing blankets over their shoulders as capes. Their silly playstyles bring Felix back to his own childhood, and they bring him a small wave of nostalgia and calm.

Felix likes the bittersweet twinge he gets in his heart when he remembers his past. It hurts to remember how he could always cling to Glenn and depend on him, play with him, learn with him, but Felix still holds the moments they spent together close to his heart. He remembers the silly nicknames they’d call each other and the nonsensical, imaginary games they’d play together. He remembers how Glenn babied him, holding his hand and patching up even the smallest of Felix’s scrapes or cuts with a happy smile. It makes him feel so warm, so loved for being himself—unlike how his father would make him feel now.

Felix shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about his father. He knows the duke means the best, but Goddess, Felix can’t stand him sometimes and can’t stand that his father can only ever see a small Glenn when he looks at Felix.

Felix strolls through the marketplace, making pleasant conversations to the best of his ability as he tries to dig up information on Miklan’s band of thieves. While most of the people have heard of them, there seems to be little that these villagers know about them. What’s worse is that some of the petite old ladies have taken a liking to his brusque manner, telling him that he reminds them of their now-adult children or a stray cat. They keep trying to give him small gifts for free—one even tries to hand him a whole entire sword that her husband had crafted—but Felix has to keep (politely) refusing. He can’t steal from their businesses. It wouldn’t sit right with him.

As Felix comes to the end of the marketplace, where less residents and merchants are, he spots a shady figure standing by a cart decorated with eccentric designs on the tarp covering the top. He meets the merchant’s eye, and the merchant enthusiastically waves him over. Felix initially doesn’t want to go—after all, he doesn’t have the _time_ for this tomfoolery—but he gets a slightly protective feeling over this village. If this shady merchant happens to do anything to this village, Felix would feel responsible for not doing anything to stop him.

Felix walks to the merchant and crosses his arms.

“Welcome!” the merchant greets, throwing his arms out to the side, like he’s speaking to the world. Felix remains unfazed. “I see that you are a traveler. Would you, perchance, be interested in weaponry?”

Felix sighs. “I guess.”

“How about trying something new then?” The merchant folds one corner of the tarp up over the cart and beams, gesturing animatedly at his wares. Felix leans in and peers at the goods.

It’s a cart full of yellowed, curled sheets of paper, looking like they were literally torn out of a tome of some sort. Felix lifts his gaze to the merchant and lifts an eyebrow. The merchant looks at him expectantly, and Felix sighs again.

“What are they?” he asks flatly.

“They’re top-secret transformation spells from the deepest and darkest parts of Morfis!” the merchant replies flatly, almost cutting on Felix in his haste to answer. Felix feels like not many people visit this merchant. “They can turn any creature—no, any _thing!—_ into the thing that you desire! Behold!”

The merchant picks up a scroll, unfurls it, and begins murmuring the spell aloud. A cat wandering nearby yowls as it becomes shrouded in a musky, blue smoke. When the smoke fades, the cat is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a crow is standing where the cat once was, looking dazed and wobbling as it tries to walk. It hesitantly flaps it wings.

“The cat has been transformed into a crow!” the merchant crows.

“And? How will this help me? Why would I need this?”

The merchant hums. “Perhaps you have an enemy of some sort that you’d like to immobilize? Simply purchase one of my spells and your enemy will be nothing but a lowly worm beneath your feet in no time at all!” A grin spreads across the man’s face. “And the best part is, this is no ordinary transformation magic. Your subject will maintain their consciousness, their _soul_ , in their new body. You can damn your enemy into living a pathetic worm’s life but suffer through the human experience of sentient and intellectual thought as well as emotions and so forth!”

Wait a minute.

Felix feels his blood run cold. “Their soul in their new body?” he echoes, and the merchant, sensing Felix’s interest, nods enthusiastically.

“Oh yes! If I turned you into a mouse right now, you would still be able to read, do math, pray to whatever deity you like—all that good stuff! Only, you’d be limited to your physical form; so maybe you could read, but you can’t pick up a pencil and write because your body is so small.” He beams. “I’ll have you know that this could also help you in battle, though you’d most definitely want a companion to help you turn you back after you use it.”

No. No, no, _no_. There’s no way that this is happening. This is implausible. This is ludicrous. This is the single dumbest idea that Felix’s poor, sleep-deprived, addled brain has supplied him with.

But he can’t deny the possibility—especially not when this weird merchant demonstrated something so potent and _real_ before him.

Could Sylvain—Goddess, Felix feels his brain rotting just by even thinking about this—have been turned into a cat? After all, there has been an awfully persistent cat, one that Felix has never seen around on the monastery grounds before, following him and meowing at him and insisting to be near him. It even followed him to the training grounds to bug him _and_ class to sat in Sylvain’s seat for all of the lecture. To top it all off, the cat is the color of _Sylvain’s hair_ and has eyes that are just as tawny as his. This can’t just be some crazy coincidence, right? Right? Is Felix the one that’s crazy?

Felix clears his throat. “How can you tell?” he demands. “How can you tell if someone’s been turned into a creature or if it’s some regular old cat—or animal or something?” Felix quickly corrects himself and tries not to seem too obvious.

The merchant simply shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be completely honest, most of the time, there isn’t too much of a distinction between a transformed person and a nature creature, but I would pay very careful attention to their behaviors. Maybe if they favor certain places or people. I’ve also heard that coloration can be a big cue.”

That’s it. Felix can’t risk it. “And how do you turn them back?”

“I have spells for that too, good sir!”

Felix gulps and swallows down all his confusion, embarrassment, and regrets. “Then I want to buy a reverse spell. Cat to human.”

-

Felix pays the merchant and practically snatches the scroll out of his hands. The merchant tells him how to use it and informs him that he has to be relatively close to the subject. With that, Felix grunts at him in reply to his irritatingly chipper, “Thank you for your patronage!” and sprints back to the inn. He turns in his key and goes to the stable, getting his horse to return back to Garreg Mach.

He doesn’t think he’s ever ridden this fast in his life, and it’s a little jarring just how fast horses can gallop, but he’s covering some pretty good distance. His heart is beating out of his chest, and he swears that he’s either one of the dumbest people alive or one of the luckiest.

However, about an hour or so into his travels, he spots a group of people walking in his direction, all looking around and calling out something intermittently—perhaps they’ve lost a pet. As he gets closer and closer to them, he recognizes his classmate and curses internally. He curses aloud when Annette gasps and points at him.

“Guys, look! It’s Felix!” Annette screeches, and the rest of his classmates look over in the direction she’s pointing.

“Felix?!” comes the surprised squawk from the rest of the Lions.

The Blue Lions all start to run towards him, waving and shouting at him. Felix, a man on a mission, directs his horse to run around them.

“I’m going back,” he shouts at them. “Go home.”

“Felix!” Ingrid fumes.

“Felix, wait!” Dimitri calls after him.

Felix doesn’t wait and continues on his way, ignoring how Ingrid is shouting some very crude things at his back while Byleth calls after him too. Felix feels bad for inadvertently dragging them all out here—he had only written the note to let them know where he was going, not for them to come and “rescue” him or whatever they think they’re doing. He hopes that they haven’t been searching too long and that make it back to the monastery safe and sound, as cheesy as that seems. He wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt because of him.

Oh man, he’s going to get the tongue-lashing of a lifetime when the Blue Lions get back to the monastery.

-

 _You know,_ Sylvain thinks as he purrs into Elaine’s gently petting, _maybe being stuck as a cat forever isn’t the worst thing in the world._

Elaine, who is solving the questions to her homework with one hand and petting Sylvain’s head with the other, has been unfairly good to him so far. Well, save for the whole turning-him-into-a-cat-without-having-a-way-to-reverse-it thing. She’s been weirdly nice, which is unlike anything that Sylvain remembers her being. She sneaks him food from the dining halls—and the good kind too, which probably isn’t too healthy for a cat, but if he dies eating these foods instead of the bland and sometimes raw meats that students slip him, then Goddess, it’s worth it. She’s not even mean to him anymore—no mean teasing, no angry yelling, nothing. She seems rather kind.

Sylvain has two ideas that he thinks influenced this. The first one is that Elaine is truly happy now. She’s mentioned her boyfriend to him a few times while she was feeding him or petting him. It seems like she really loves him, judging from the soft flush that paints her cheeks and the giggly bouts she goes into when she thinks of things he’s done for her or said; and from the things that Sylvain hears, he really seems to love her back. Sylvain can’t blame her for wanting a good relationship after her chaotic experiences with Sylvain. He really doesn’t do much other than upset people and cause trouble.

The second idea is that Sylvain was just being unfair to her. To be fair, he’s kind of unfair to every girl he meets, almost always has been. He first assumes they want him for his Crest. If they haven’t heard of his Crest or his nobility—which is _extremely unlikely_ —then they only want him because he’s good-looking. He supposes that that line of thinking isn’t fair—that it doesn’t really give the girls a chance. But he’s so terrified of getting hurt, so terrified of letting people love him, so terrified of letting them down after they’ve come in through his walls. He hides his true self away and shows others what he wants them to see.

It only occurred to him now that he’s only been seeing what he wants to see. He only noticed Elaine’s supposed superficiality because he thought that she would hurt him, that she would only be after his Crest and his name, that she would never treat him the way he wanted to be treated. He perceived her in such a way and put aside all his efforts to get behind Elaine’s own mask just so he could get into her bed and forget all about his miserable life.

Sylvain looks up at her and watches as she peeks over from her homework at him, smiling a little. He really feels the repercussions of his stupid mentality now. He just can’t help but to wish that he wasn’t so fucked up. He wishes that Miklan had just been treated normally, like a regular human. He wishes that he could be regular too, expressing his emotions in normal ways without hurting others. He wishes that he could make amends to everyone he’s hurt, though he has no doubt that the list of his victims would be unbearably long and none of his victims would want to even so much as look at him again. Including his family.

Truth be told, Sylvain is pretty sure his family only let him come to the monastery to help him get married, to get themselves an heir and get Sylvain out of their hair. He’s nothing but a pawn to his parents, his cruel and heartless parents who willingly tossed aside their very human son. And even now, he can’t help but to recognize that he’s quite useless even as a pawn to them, seeing how he’s built up a terrible reputation for himself with his escapades—with his attempts to forget about his awful existence

Why can’t things ever be easy for Sylvain? Why can’t he just have someone willing to put up with his bullshit and patch him together? Why can’t he be that sort of person for anyone else?

Sylvain heaves a small sigh and rests his hand on his paws.

Elaine’s little smile fades into a frown. She sighs too. “I know. I want to turn you back too.”

 _Not what I was thinking, but thanks for the sentiment_. Sylvain lifts his gaze to meet Elaine’s, but he keeps his head down.

“I just don’t know how to contact the merchant.” She pauses. “Do you think I should tell Lady Rhea? Maybe she could dispatch some soldiers to find him?”

Sylvain really doesn’t have a way to answer this. He supposes he could nod or shake his head, but he doesn’t know how to answer. If Elaine gets the Knights of Seiros to try and search for the merchant that sold her the scroll, then the monastery may be a little less guarded—and with what’s been going on lately, that’s probably not the smartest idea. If Elaine doesn’t get Rhea’s help in finding the man, he might be stuck like this forever.

But is it better like this? He can’t really bother many people this way. No flirting, no causing people trouble, no making people disappointed.

Plus, Felix wouldn’t have to pretend to tolerate him anymore.

Somehow that’s the point that makes his heart hurt the most—the thought of Felix forgetting about him and being happier without him around.

Sylvain wilts.

-

The second that Felix bursts into the monastery and returns the horse back to the stables, people are gawking and whispering, pointing and staring. He knows it probably has to do with the disappearance of the Blue Lions and Professor Byleth, but he can’t bring himself to care. One of the soldiers tending the stables turns to him, recognizes the horse, and his face scrunches up in anger. Oh boy. Felix can practically hear the words forming on his mouth— _something, something, stolen horse, something, something, punishment—_ but he doesn’t have the time to listen to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m in trouble,” he says dismissively with a wave of his hand. He leaves the soldier apoplectic with rage. He ignores the words the soldier yells at him as he starts his search throughout the monastery for Sylvain.

He doesn’t see Sylvain’s messy red fur at the dining hall, where cats curiously watch him from where they’re seated. He doesn’t see him at the fishing pond, where cats and dogs lounge about, waiting for someone to come and toss them a fish or two. He doesn’t see Sylvain at the greenhouse, the marketplace, the classrooms, the reception halls, the training grounds—he can’t find Sylvain anywhere.

Felix feels something heavy settle in his chest. Where could he have gone? It’s unlikely that Sylvain left the monastery. He wouldn’t have a reason to. Unless—

Unless Sylvain had seen Felix leaving and tried to follow him out.

Felix goes cold at the thought of taking a horse and running off, leaving Sylvain to try and keep up with him. He thinks of Sylvain desperately meowing at him, as if calling out for him to wait up. He thinks of Sylvain, winded, stopping to catch his breath and losing sight of Felix. He thinks of Sylvain, lost outside of the monastery with no way to ask for directions back home.

A wave of frustration washes over him. That stupid Sylvain—why can’t he just leave Felix alone so that he can help him? And why couldn’t Felix do anything to stop him?

He plops down on a bench in the courtyard, just outside the classrooms. A tiredness settles in, and he feels absolutely exhausted from the wild goose chase he had gone on. He just wants Sylvain back. That’s all he wants.

He puts his head in his hands and sighs. Just what is he going to do about this? He can’t help Sylvain if he’s nearby. Is Sylvain just going to have to stay a cat? Is Felix just going to have to live with the fact that his best friend who thinks that Felix can’t stand him—who thinks that Felix _hates_ him with a passion—is now gone from his life forever?

He can’t lose anyone this important to him. Not after he’s lost Glenn—and not after he’s basically lost his father, who can only ever see him as an inferior replacement to Glenn, too. Sylvain was one of the last people who made life feel less shitty. He was someone who always put up with Felix’s gripes and anger, always willing to listen and comfort him; he was someone who never hated him, who always showed him compassion and patience until Felix foolishly pushed him away. And for what? To prove that Sylvain really is as pathetic and annoying as Felix says? To prove that Felix doesn’t need him? To prove that he doesn’t love him?

Well, that’s all false. And now—who knows where Sylvain is? Who knows what in the world could have happened to him?

A heat rises to his eyes, and his vision blurs with the telltale wetness of tears. He curses under his breath and quickly wipes his eyes with his sleeve. _I’m not sad,_ he tells himself, _I’m just frustrated_. It does little to soothe the hot pain of self-loathing, frustration, melancholy.

The sound of a door closing draws Felix’s attention. He looks over and spots a brunette girl carrying—wait, is that Sylvain?

-

“You need some fresh air,” Elaine is telling him. “You’ve been cooped up all day! I don’t care if you want to stay in.”

Sylvain, with half his body tossed across Elaine’s shoulder like he’s nothing but a sack of potatoes, says nothing in response. He just heaves a small sigh. He waits for her to set him on the grass of the courtyard. He scans the relatively empty yard before he realizes that there’s a familiar, dark-haired figure storming in his direction. Sylvain perks up.

Sylvain bounds over to Felix, meowing happily at him. He’s surprised when Felix picks him up, his hands settled under Sylvain’s forelegs. He holds Sylvain suspended in the air, his back legs dangling pathetically beneath him.

“You,” Felix snaps at him, pulling him closer to his face to emphasize his words, and Sylvain winces. “You stupid, irresponsible, contemptible fool! Do you have any idea how worried we were for you?” Sylvain presses his ears against his head and gives him his best approximation of puppy dog eyes. “I can’t believe you! We always tell you to clean up your act and fix things yourself, but here you are, getting yourself in some absolutely idiotic _bull_ —”

“Hey! Put that cat down!” Elaine interrupts, walking over. She practically snatches Sylvain out of Felix’s arms. “There’s no reason to yell at this poor kitty. He can’t even understand you.” Elaine strokes Sylvain’s head, but Sylvain keeps his gaze on Felix.

And it’s then, at that very moment, that Sylvain realizes. Felix recognizes him.

Felix frowns. “Listen, I just need that cat for a second.”

“Well, I’m not going to hand him over to you if you just keep yelling at him.”

“It’s important—”

“Calm down first, why don’t you?” As Felix takes a small breath to clear his head, Sylvain spots a scroll with a familiar sigil on it, peeking out of Felix’s backpack.

Sylvain wriggles and writhes until Elaine sets him down, confused. He purrs against Felix’s leg before pawing at his pant leg. Felix frowns and leans down to pick up Sylvain. Sylvain presses in against Felix until the scroll is close enough for him to bat at with his paw. Felix doesn’t realize until he manages to pull the scroll out of Felix’s bag.

The scroll hits the ground and rolls over in the grass. It draws both Elaine and Felix’s attention. Elaine blanks.

“That—that seal!” She points at the scroll. “That’s transformation magic, isn’t it?”

Felix leans over to pick up the scroll, setting Sylvain on the grass. Sylvain sits down and puffs out his chest, watching as they talk. “Yeah. You know about it?”

Elaine winces. “Yes. I bought something from that merchant.” She waits a beat before looking around, once then twice. Deeming the coast to be clear, she leans in and tells Felix, “It may or may not have to do with Sylvain.” She smiles at him, sheepish. “But something tells me you already know that.”

Felix pauses. “You’re serious. Don’t tell me that…” He casts his glance at Sylvain, who gives him a small nod, and Elaine who averts her gaze, her small, guilty smile still on her face. Felix sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goddess,” he mutters under his breath.

“Listen, it’s really not that important,” Elaine hurriedly tells him. “We just need to change him back. That wouldn’t happen to be the reverse spell, would it?”

“It is.”

“Well, then what are you waiting for? Please change him back!”

Felix frowns and holds out the scroll. “I can’t. I don’t know how to use this.” He looks anywhere but at Sylvain. “I’m not very proficient in magic just yet. But I’m assuming since _you_ did this, you can turn him back.”

“I’ll do my best. But let’s go somewhere private first. Just in case.”

-

The three of them file into Felix’s room before Felix locks his door and tosses his backpack aside on the ground. He walks over to where Elaine is standing, the scroll unfurled in her hands as she tries to make sense of the words, her eyebrows scrunched together. Felix crosses his arms and looks down at Sylvain, who is patiently sitting on the floor in front of them.

“Okay,” Elaine says quietly. “Okay, I think I got it.”

She reads the spell aloud. As she recites the spell, a soft chant that cuts sharply through the silence in the dorm room, a cloud of smoke, cold and white, fills the room. Swirls of gold and purple, little sparks of dancing lights, envelop Sylvain’s silhouette. She reads the spell aloud. As she recites the spell, a soft chant that cuts sharply through the silence in the dorm room, a cloud of smoke, cold and white, fills the room. Swirls of gold and purple, little sparks of dancing lights, envelop Sylvain’s silhouette. The smoke floods the room and becomes thicker and thicker—until both Elaine and Felix are coughing from the irritants in their lungs.

When the smoke finally starts to fade, dissipating into thin wisps, Elaine and Felix both let out a small sigh of relief. In place of the red tabby stands Sylvain Jose Gautier in all his regular-human glory. He’s half-naked, only wearing a pair of shorts, but he’s still human nonetheless. Felix tries not to stare too much at Sylvain’s well-built body, instead focusing on his head, where smoke still lingers like an opaque cloud-crown.

Sylvain blinks owlishly at both Felix and Ingrid before looking down at his body and absolutely beaming, his hands patting down his body as if to make sure what he sees isn’t an illusion. Felix sighs and uncrosses his arms. Elaine rolls the scroll back up. The smoke concealing the top of his head fades away into the air, revealing Sylvain’s messy, red hair.

Just as Felix opens his mouth to give Sylvain an earful, two, fluffy and red cat ears spring up from his hair. Any and all of Felix’s words die on his tongue as he balks at the cat ears playfully twitching at the top of his head. Felix whips around to stare at Elaine, who is wearing the same, baffled expression.

“Oh, man,” Sylvain rambles, completely oblivious, “thank you both so much. You have no idea how nice it feels to be human again. I mean, don’t get me wrong—being a cat has its ups, but I think I’d rather just stick with being in this body.” He smiles. “Hold on. Let me put some clothes on before I thank you two properly.”

Before Elaine or Felix can even react, Sylvain has left Felix’s room, headed to his own room to get dressed. Felix blinks, rubs his eyes, and then turns his gaze to the baffled girl beside him. She gawks at the door before slowly turning to Felix.

"It’s a really hard spell,” Elaine quickly defends. “I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

Felix shakes his head. “Look. Just try it again when he comes back.”

"I will. But we probably shouldn't just let him wander around the monastery grounds with those ears. It's going to attract attention." At Felix's grunt of agreement, Elaine nods as well and unfurls the scroll. “Let’s see…” She murmurs to herself, her finger sliding across the page as she tries to make sense of the symbols and words written on it.

After a minute or two, Sylvain pops his head in the doorway of Felix’s room.

“Hey, actually, I think we should talk about all this over a nice, hot meal 'cause I'm pretty hungry. Let’s go to the dining hall.” He starts to walk past the door in the direction of the dorm's stairs.

“No!” Elaine and Felix blurt out, running after him.

-

As the Blue Lions, frustrated and tired, make their way back to the monastery, they hear talks of Felix acting erratically, speeding around Garreg Mach. The Blue Lions, led by one exasperated Professor Byleth, make their way to Felix’s dorm room, where the door is shut.

“The door should be weak,” Ingrid tells them. “I kicked it open this morning.”

"Oh my,” Mercedes muses. “That sounds like it took quite some strength to do.”

The professor raps his knuckles against the door anyway, ignoring Ingrid’s comment about the weak door. “Felix,” he calls. When Felix doesn’t reply, Professor Byleth knocks using a little more force and raises his voice. “Felix, come out here right now and explain to us just _what_ is going on.”

“No!” Felix snarls through the door. “Go away! I’m busy.”

Professor Byleth—and a few of the other Blue Lions—expectantly look over to Ingrid, who huffs and rolls up her sleeves as she begins storming over to the door. Before she can reach it, Annette jumps in front of her, waving her arms about.

“Wait, wait, wait! I want to do it! Let me do it! I never got to bust open a door before!” Annette grins. “Plus, you said that it’s weaker, right? It shouldn’t be a problem for me!”

Ingrid blinks but takes a step back, gesturing towards the door. “Um. Sure. Go for it.”

Annette pumps her fist in the air. “Yes!”

After one, solid kick from Annette, the door bursts open and seems to hit someone, if the hissed cursing behind it is any indication. The professor leads the group in, dead seat on finding out what kind of tomfoolery was going on. His determined expression melts away into confusion.

In Felix’s room, still looking like it had recently been ransacked, is a brunette girl from another class, murmuring words to herself; an angry-looking Felix, crossing his arms and impatiently tapping his foot as he looks at the girl; and beside the door is a somber Sylvain, rubbing his shoulder and looking pitiful.

“Sylvain?”

Sylvain turns to the Lions and brightens a little. “Oh! Hey, guys. Ladies.” Sylvain gives them a smile and a wink. He then turns to Professor Byleth sheepishly. “Hey, Teach.”

“Sylvain,” Dimitri quietly says. “We were all so worried about you. I’m glad to see that you’re safe.” At his words, Dedue, Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette nod.

“You’ve been hiding in Felix’s room this whole time?” Ingrid huffs, pushing past the professor and Dimitri. She balls her hands into fists. “You—!”

“What? No! I just got here!” He pauses. “But I’m glad to see all of you here, you know.” He grins at them. “You all just miss me that much, huh?”

Just then, the Blue Lions all gasp and jump as a pair of red cat ears pop up from Sylvain’s hair. A tense silence fills the air, which Sylvain breaks with a nervous laugh. Sylvain shifts uncomfortably, one hand resting on the back of his neck and the other in his pocket.

“Cat ears?” Annette asks, cocking her head to the right.

“Cat ears?” Mercedes asks, cocking her head to the left.

Dedue nods grimly. “It appears that is the case, yes. There are cat ears. On Sylvain’s head.” Even with his serious façade, the underlying amusement in his face, the slightest turn of his lips upwards, isn’t missed by anyone in the room.

"Goddess, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Ingrid says.

“Oh! More like, you’ve got to be _kitten_ me!” Ashe says with a chuckle. Ingrid shoots him a withering look. Ashe masks his chuckle as a cough, looking sheepish as he averts his gaze. Meanwhile, Dimitri, who had tried to stifle a laugh when Ashe first said his joke, hasn’t stopped laughing at Ashe’s pun, now openly laughing and doubling over with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other on Dedue’s shoulder.

"Dimitri,” Professor Byleth says gently.

Dimitri clears his throat and takes on a serious face, though he seems to look one more cat pun from bursting into laughter again. “My apologies,” he says formally. Ashe beams at his back.

“Um, Professor?” A brunette girl sitting at Felix’s desk stands up, a scroll in her hands. Everyone looks over at her. “Sylvain had been turned into a cat, and we were trying to turn him back. Using this spell.” She holds out the scroll.

“A cat,” echoes Professor Byleth. He walks over, temporarily ignoring the scroll, and curiously circles Sylvain. He grabs at Sylvain’s hands and examines his nails. He checks Sylvain’s lower back with a brief glance, as if searching for a tail, then settles his gaze on the top of Sylvain’s head. He puts a hand on Sylvain’s head, resting it between the fluffy ears. Then, after a moment, he moves his hand, petting Sylvain, who simply smiles and makes an odd rumbly noise that everyone recognizes as purring.

“Professor,” Ingrid says, sounding much more tired than someone her age should be.

Professor Byleth blinks and turns to the brunette. “How was he turned into a cat?”

“I turned him into a cat,” she admits, averting her gaze so that she’s looking at the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.”

"Why would you do that, Elaine?” Annette squeaks.

“Elaine?” Dimitri cocks his head. “The girl from the Golden Deer House?”

“It’s Sylvain,” Ingrid replies haggardly, ignoring Dimitri. “Why do you think anyone would do something like that to him?”

Sylvain pouts childishly. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry. It was a very immature, impulsive, and spiteful thing of me to do.” Elaine shakes her head. “Professor, your magic skills are much stronger than mine. Would you please use this spell and turn Sylvain back to an actual human?”

"I’m glad to see that you recognize the consequences of your actions, but I may still have to confront Lady Rhea about this.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. I understand.”

The professor takes the scroll with a small nod. He recites the spell with ease, and before everyone knows it, Sylvain stands there with a noticeable absence of cat ears and a noticeable presence of his regular, human ears on the sides of his head where they’re supposed to be. Sylvain reaches up and forks a hand through his hair.

Sylvain grins. “I’m back, baby!”

Ingrid storms over. “I told you!” she snaps at him, and Sylvain’s grin drops the tiniest bit. “I told you that all your skirt-chasing won’t end up in anything good!”

Sylvain only chuckles, winking at her. “Aw, Ingrid, did you miss me?”

“Of course I did!” Her angry looks softens. Sylvain stares, eyes wide and surprised. “Sylvain, you may be a stupid flirt, but you’re still my friend, you know? I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” She draws Sylvain in a hug. “I’m still mad at you though.”

Sylvain laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I’d be mad too.”

“The same goes with me,” Dimitri chimes in. “I’m glad to see you’re back, Sylvain, and I would not have you in any other form than you regular, flirty human one.” He pauses. “Though, I would like if you were a little more careful in your, um, endeavors.”

Sylvain smiles at him and spreads his arms. “C’mere, big guy.”

Dimitri smiles back, and hugs Sylvain and Ingrid, who both immediately protest from how hard he’s squeezing them.

“Group hug!” Annette yells, practically throwing herself at the three. Mercedes giggles and joins Annette. Ashe shyly wanders over before joining them. Dedue joins too, though it seems hesitant—Professor Byleth had to pull him over to join.

"Dima, my ribs—okay, okay, guys,” Sylvain chokes out from the center of the impromptu group bear hug. “Come on. You can let go now. I can’t… breathe…”

“We missed you!” Annette chirps as the hug slowly disbands. “We’re just not the same without you around!”

“You missed me?” Sylvain raises his eyebrows, looking a little shocked. Quickly, he masks this with an air of bravado and a flirty wink. “Well, of course you missed me. Who wouldn’t miss this lovable man?” He grins cheekily before Ingrid cuffs his head, scowling at him. He laughs regardless, and Ingrid eases up, smiling at him.

Professor Byleth is the first to pull away from the hug, turning his gaze to Felix and Elaine, who stood off to the side and watched as the other Blue Lions greeted Sylvain.

“Felix, you’ve caused us quite some trouble as well, running off in the middle of night by yourself. I admire that your tenacity in finding Sylvain, but what you did was very dangerous.” He shakes his head.

“I know,” replies Felix.

“As punishment, I will assign you extra chores for the next month.”

With his arms crossed, Felix simply shrugs his shoulders, still wearing a cold glare. His entire posture exudes an air of utter casual indifference. “Fine.”

Byleth catches onto the fact that Felix doesn’t seem like he quite wants to talk so he nods and instead switches his focus to address Elaine. “Come with me to Lady Rhea so you can explain what’s going on.” Elaine obediently nods. “As for the rest of you, I want you to go back to your dorms and rest. You all earned it after such a long day of travel.”

Annette cheers, grabbing Mercedes’s hand and leading her away, gushing about the food at the dining hall. Ashe bows quickly at Dimitri and the professor and scampers out. But no one

“Wait, Elaine.” Sylvain ignores how Felix, Dimitri, Dedue, and Ingrid are boring holes into the back of his head while Professor Byleth patiently waits at the door for Elaine. “Um, I need to talk to you.”

Elaine smiles a little. “I think I have a feeling that I know what you want to talk about, but maybe we can catch up later, okay?”

As Elaine leaves alongside the professor, Sylvain gets another lecture from Ingrid about the immorality of his skirt-chasing and flirting. Once he assures her that he knows what he’s done wrong and convinced her, he gets another armful of Ingrid. Right after, Dimitri gives him an earful too, seeming more exasperated and confused at his antics than Ingrid and her wrath. Nevertheless, he gets a hug from Dimitri and a nod of acknowledgment from Dedue. The three of them leave the room together, leaving Sylvain with…

“Hey, Felix,” Sylvain says, stretching out his greeting. Felix glowers at him. Sylvain clears his throat awkwardly. “Thanks a bunch for helping me out there, Fe.” Sylvain winces at the uncomfortable tension in the air between them, at the remembrance of their argument settling in his brain and his heart, at the strained and skittish delivery of his supposedly casual words.

Sylvain gives a soft sigh. No, he promised himself that he was going to try and be more honest to others—to himself.

“Sorry for putting you through all that trouble.” Sylvain frowns and averts his gaze so that he’s not staring at Felix’s scorching glare. “I know that we’re not, uh, really on good terms and all, but…” It kind of _really_ hurts to say that, but he has to remember that Felix had set boundaries and has to respect that.

“Shut up,” Felix snaps sharply, and Sylvain grimaces. He’s sure that if he still had his cat ears right about now, they’re be pressed against his head, trying to blend in with his hair. The fact that Felix’s hands are tightly clenched, his jaw set, and his shoulders pulled taut, up to his ears is also quite an alarming thing. “You only ever think about yourself, don’t you?! We looked all over this damned monastery! We called in the Knights of Seiros—your parents were going to send over soldiers to look for you! Do you have any idea how much trouble you put us all through? Do you have _any_ common sense?!”

Sylvain feels his insides crumbling, his chest deflating. But he plasters on his typical, lax smile—the one that has all the ladies swooning. “Sorry, sorry. I promise I’m going to change. You saw what Ingrid and Dimitri said to me. I’m taking your words to heart, promise! I’m working on being better.” He turns towards the door. “I’ll get out of your hair now. I know how you don’t really like me—within reason too.”

“Sylvain,” comes Felix’s voice, low and quiet. Sylvain almost doesn’t hear it.

Sylvain, with one foot in the door and the other just outside, replies, “What?” He turns to face Felix but barely has time to react before Felix drags him into a tight hug.

His mind practically short-circuits when he realizes that Felix is clinging to him. Sylvain feels his face heating up, his heartbeat jackrabbiting in his chest. He feels weird. He feels warm. He feels some way that he doesn’t think he’s actually ever truly felt before. He looks down at the dark-haired boy clinging to him.

In that very second, his mind starts to connect dots. How he always wants to be around Felix. How he always wants Felix to be safe. How he feels so funny and warm and protected and _soft_ around Felix, even if Felix wants nothing to do with him. How he always wants to be by Felix’s side for as long as he’ll let him, to protect him and to keep him alive and to make him smile and—

And it’s then that he realizes, _fuck, I think I might be in love with Felix._

Felix is trembling ever so slightly, his fingers digging into the material of the shirt Sylvain is borrowing— _pull any harder,_ Sylvain thinks, _and you might just rip this thing off me._ Felix buries his face against Sylvain’s chest, and Sylvain hopes to the Goddess that Felix can’t feel or hear his embarrassingly fast heartbeat, racing away in his chest.

“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” Felix murmurs, his voice quivering just the slightest touch. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

Sylvain thinks of Felix as a child, clinging to him and crying after anything that upset him. He thinks of how Felix would always pout or scrunch up his reddening face, insisting that he’s not crying while tears clearly rolled down his chubby cheeks. He remembers fondly how Felix would come to him first, even when Glenn and Dimitri offered to comfort him.

 _Oh, you haven’t changed a bit,_ Sylvain thinks warmly, looking down at Felix.

“I won’t,” Sylvain tells him, and he thinks he really means it this time.

-

Life at the monastery rolls along back to normalcy pretty quickly. Professor Byleth goes back to teaching his Lions, his classroom now full. Felix spends his time between doing chores and heading out to train. Sylvain spends his time catching up on any missing work and catching up with some friends. Rhea rescinds the orders for the Knights of Seiros to patrol or search, and she sends Alois and Shamir out to go and search for the vendor selling forbidden transformation magic.

Sylvain even gets a chance to properly apologize to Elaine. Though his delivery is very stilted and uncomfortable—after all, he’s never had to bear his heart like this to anyone else before—he apologizes, telling her about how he’s realizes his own superficiality and his inability to be genuine. She, in turn, happily accepts his apology and profusely apologizes for turning him into a cat. They end up going to get some tea together and becoming pretty good friends, despite the way that Elaine’s new boyfriend very clearly gives Sylvain a stink eye.

Sylvain feels like life is just as it should be now. Save for one thing.

He and Felix are still rather distant.

 _It’s because he’s busy_ , Sylvain rationalizes. _He’s training, doing classwork, and doing the extra chores that Professor Byleth dished out for him. And I’ve been kind of busy myself, lately._

But it still kind of hurts. Especially now that Sylvain has made sense of his weird feelings, the feelings that have been haunting him for the longest of times. Especially because Sylvain remembers that Felix never really said anything about _not_ hating Sylvain.

Sylvain just isn’t sure how to approach this situation. He doesn’t want to barge into Felix’s life and ask him if they’re still friends—he’s scared that his feelings might spill out and ruin it all. But he can’t bear standing by and doing nothing. He doesn’t think Felix really wants to do anything about this himself either.

So Sylvain leaves a little letter in the advice box and patiently waits for Professor Byleth to fish his note out of the puddle of requests, hiding out in the monastery. When the professor finally arrives, Sylvain watches him from behind a pillar. The professor stares blankly at the page before slowly producing a pen from his sleeve; a simple flick of his wrist has the quill feather pen slipping out of his sleeve and smoothly flowing into his hand. He scrawls something on the paper and moves to set it back in the box.

Sylvain, unable to contain his anticipation, scurries over and practically snatches the note from his professor's hands.

“Sylvain? That was you?”

Too busy reading the professor's messy handwriting, Sylvain doesn't reply. His eyes stayed glued to the paper, but he reads and rereads the advice he got over and over again, trying to pretend that it says literally anything else. Professor Byleth’s advice is four words: _Just talk to him._ Sylvain scowls at the sheet and looks up at the professor who is watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, I know I should! I do! But…” Sylvain wilts, sticking the note in his pocket. “This is really hard. It means a lot to me, Teach. I have to do it right.”

“So just talk to him already. And do it right.”

Sylvain huffs and leaves the cathedral. He supposes he has to go find Felix and right things between them now. Behind him, he can hear the counselor telling the professor, “Ah, it seems that Sylvain liked your response, Professor.”

-

Felix has no idea what to make of Sylvain. For whatever reason, he’s stopped flirting with girls. No more reciting bad pick-up lines; no more running from upset exes; no more strange, shallow smiles at any noblewoman who looks in his general direction. He’s just stopped completely. The girls at the monastery seem to enjoy the relatively peace, though a few of them go up to Sylvain from time to time to try and flirt with him. He’s been _actually_ paying attention in class—well, save for the times when he’s doodling things in the margins of his notes, but Sylvain’s never really needed his notes anyway. It’s almost unfair how quickly he learns.

Another weird thing is that Sylvain’s been staring at him a lot more. Sometimes, there’s a sad look coloring his expression; sometimes, there’s just plain curiosity. Whatever it is that Sylvain’s thinking, Felix has no idea what it is and has no idea where to even begin.

Well, Felix could always just ask, but he doesn’t think he wants to. He’s still mad at himself for being so emotionally _stunted_ —for being unable to tell Sylvain that he’s sorry, that he missed him and was worried for him more than he could ever imagine, that he _likes_ him, even when he’s bugging him during class or while he’s training. He can’t bring himself to talk to Sylvain. He can’t talk to Sylvain about anything serious. He feels like he’ll say too much and scare him away.

It frustrates him and flusters him how he’s treating this like a bad breakup—like they were closer than friends before he argued with Sylvain over literally nothing. He wants to approach, but he’s always dancing around Sylvain and his own feelings, and now Sylvain is dodging him like he would dodge an arrow on the battlefield. This is by far the worst dance that Felix has taken part in. It’s even worse than when his dad made him dance with Ingrid at his seventh birthday party, where he proceeded to get his feet clumsily stepped on and practically kicked, and it’s even worse than when he watched Sylvain dance with some noble at said party, grinning widely at Felix and inviting him to trade partners.

Even so, he really can’t stand this distance between him and Sylvain. He misses how Sylvain would always follow him around, like his shadow but much sunnier and brighter and more full of _life._ He misses how Sylvain would throw an arm over his shoulder and beam at him, talking his ear off about anything and everything—Felix thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if Sylvain came over to him and started talking to him about girls because anything hurts less than this _silence_. He misses how they would eat their meals together and Sylvain would very unsubtly slide him more of his two-fish sauté or his super-spicy fish dango, even though Sylvain loves those meals just as much as he does. He just misses _Sylvain_ , almost as much as when he went “missing.”

Speaking of which, Felix notices that Sylvain’s practicing the same, cautionary behavior that he was before he disappeared—all forced smiles and forced distances. It frustrates Felix beyond reason because he knows _why_ Sylvain is acting this way, and he knows he has to fix it, but—but words are so elusive and being genuine and vulnerable is so hard and…

At this point, he just wants the old Sylvain back. And he thinks he’ll do anything to get him back.

That’s why Felix finds himself seeking Sylvain out to talk with him.

-

Felix finds Sylvain north of the courtyard, sitting on the bench and staring out into the sky and the cathedral. He is leisurely sitting back, his arms tucked behind his head and his long legs stretched out comfortably. He doesn’t seem to notice Felix approaching him until Felix takes a seat beside him.

Sylvain glances over at him, his eyes wide, but he doesn’t seem to know what to say so he stays silent. Felix, not having thought this through, sits in silence alongside Sylvain as he tries to put together a good way to talk to him. Sylvain shifts uncomfortably, sitting upright, but he makes no move to leave.

“Sylvain.”

“Yeah?”

Another awkward pause that makes Felix wants to tear his hair out. Why is he just so unable to say anything meaningful? Why are the words _right there_ on the tip of his tongue but so hard to say? Why is his heart beating so embarrassingly fast? It's not like he's confessing to him!

 _No_ , Felix thinks to himself, swallowing down his embarrassment and frustration to the best of his ability, _I have to do this. I have to talk to him. I have to fix whatever’s going on in Sylvain’s head and whatever he thinks is between us._

“You’re avoiding me.” It’s a start.

Sylvain frowns. “Am I?” He turns his gaze from the cathedral to Felix, though he doesn’t meet his eyes. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Cut the shit, Gautier,” Felix’s tone comes off as needlessly hostile, and he wants to kick himself for the way that Sylvain flinches the smallest bit. Felix tries his best to soften his tone, to say words that won’t sound as mean. “I mean, um… There’s really no way that you haven’t noticed. You’re always leaving rooms that I’m in or standing at the far corner or sitting in the way back part of the room even though you usually sit next to me.”

"Aw, Fe, do you miss me?” Sylvain grins at him, but there’s an odd bittersweet twinge to his expression, and Felix can’t quite pin what it is. “I thought you said you hated me.”

Felix scowls. “Cut it out. You know I don’t hate you.” At Sylvain’s stunned look, Felix feels tendrils of guilt rise from the bottom of his being and squeeze his heart, dragging it to the bottom of his stomach. “I don’t,” he reiterates. “And I never have.” He sighs, pointedly staring at his feet, but his gaze keeps rising up to meet Sylvain’s. “I’m, um, sorry for making you think that.”

Sylvain stares at him. Blinks twice. Keeps staring.

“What?”

“You mean it?”

Felix huffs. “Of course I do. Now stop being weird and go back to being normal.”

A small smile tugs at Sylvain’s lips. “You want me around? Even if I bother you?”

Felix gives a soft sigh. “You don’t bother me.” When Sylvain chuckles a little, Felix hurriedly adds on, “Most of the time,” as his cheeks start to heat up.

“Geez, this is like the most I’ve heard such nice words from you, Felix!” Sylvain laughs before putting on a genuine, small smile. “But really, I’m glad to hear that."

Felix feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his chest. He lets his shoulders sag just the tiniest bit. “So you’re going to stop being weird now?” He can’t help but to feel like a child when he says that. He adds, “Like, you’re going to go back and flirt with the girls and bother me at training and class now?”

Sylvain purses his lips. “Hmm. Well, I don’t know if I can promise that.”

“What?”

“I just—things have happened. I don’t think I want to go and flirt with the girls.” Sylvain chuckles nervously, and Felix feels his heart starting to sink like a rock preemptively. If Sylvain isn’t interested in any of the girls at the monastery—not a _single_ one of them, not even to just burn some time with his stupid flirtations—then someone must have caught his eye. And to Felix’s horror, Sylvain confirms that. “I’ve been more focused on one person. And I don’t really want anyone else, I think.”

Felix tries not to look disappointed. “Mm. Whatever. Just stop being weird around me.” He stands up, using his hands to smooth down his clothes and dust himself off. It gives him something to do with his hands and a reason to avoid looking at Sylvain. “I’m going to go train now.”

Sylvain blinks. “Wait, you’re not going to ask me who it is?”

“Why should I care who you’re lusting over?” Felix wrinkles his nose and tries to think of anything other than Sylvain dating some faceless girl and being happier than he ever would have been with Felix.

“Lusting? What? No!” Sylvain huffs, his cheeks and the edges of his ears slowly growing pink. “This is something serious, Felix!”

“Fine. You’re in love. Wow. Good for you.” Felix turns his back to Sylvain. He feels something funny in his chest. It _hurts_ and _burns_ and he just wants to walk away from this conversation already—but if he does that, Sylvain will definitely know that something’s wrong. He gulps and ignores the dread and regret in his chest. He tries to sound normal when he speaks, but his throat is getting tight and shaky. “You know I don’t ever care about your _conquests_ ,” he says, practically spitting the word out.

Felix hears Sylvain stand up. “Hey, are you okay?” Sylvain asks quietly. He places a hand on Felix’s shoulder, and Felix bats his hand away.

"I’m fine.”

“You sure don’t sound fine.” Sylvain pauses. “How am I supposed to stop acting weird around you when you’re acting like this with me?”

“I’m always like this.” Felix impulsively says that, but the longer that the silence between him and Sylvain lingers, the more he remembers that it’s true. He’s so emotionally closed off to everyone, including his own father and his closest friends. He shuts his eyes and takes a silent, shuddery breath as Sylvain stares at him.

-

Sylvain has no idea what to say, what to do. Something’s very clearly wrong with Felix, but Felix seems like he’d honestly rather die than talk to him about it. Sylvain can relate to that—because he still feels that way around his friends too—but it hurts seeing Felix like this. It sucks because Sylvain is too scared to press forward, too scared to ruin their newly fixed friendship.

“Felix, look at me.”

“Why?”

Sylvain huffs and decides to things into his own hands. He simply steps around Felix so that they’re facing each other. Felix quickly ducks his head, but Sylvain is quick, is sharp. He doesn’t miss the watery sheen to his eyes, the flush to his cheeks. His chest aches, and he’s acutely reminded of when Felix had thought that he died when he was right there with him the whole time.

“Fe?”

Felix looks like a cornered animal, feral and tense. It’s only a matter of time before Felix comes out with sharp words and scathing looks to preserve his emotions, to keep himself as far away from emotional vulnerability as possible. Sylvain knows. He’s seen him like this before, time and time again, throughout their friendship. Sylvain also knows what Felix is like underneath that prickly façade. As much as Sylvain wants to preserve their friendship, he can’t just leave Felix like this.

Sylvain pulls Felix into a hug, and Felix fidgets roughly and huffs out curses, but eventually, he settles in Sylvain’s arms silently. It’s eerie how little of a fight he puts him, trembling and letting tears quietly slip down his cheeks. It must be serious if he’s still seeking comfort from Sylvain like he would when they were still children.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain asks, rubbing soothing circles against Felix’s back. “It’s _me,_ Felix. You trust me, don’t you?”

In all honesty, Sylvain isn’t expecting Felix to answer at all, nevertheless answer honestly. After all, they _just_ fixed their relationship, and they _just_ agreed to be friends again. Felix has all the reasons in the world to keep his problems to himself, and Sylvain thinks he has no rights asking Felix to tell him, no rights to insist on an answer.

“You,” Felix rasps out, surprising Sylvain. “You’re the problem. You’re always the problem.”

Sylvain was not ready for that answer. “I did something. What’d I do?” When Felix doesn’t reply, Sylvain thinks back to their conversation. He thinks about how tense and awkward Felix was being, eager to just mend their friendship and have Sylvain around him again. He thinks about how Felix’s relaxed mood slipped away into this broken Felix in the drop of a pin as soon as Sylvain mentioned that he liked someone but didn’t specify who. Then he pieces it all together.

Oh.

_Oh._

Felix _likes him back_. And the idiot thinks that Sylvain wants anyone other than him.

His chest fluttering and his body feeling jittery, full of love and life, Sylvain squeezes Felix and bites back a laugh. He can’t manage to stifle the exasperated chuckle that slips past his lips. It gets Felix moving again, roughly shoving him away.

“Felix,” he says, smiling. Felix glares at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Felix, that person I’m in love with—it’s you. It’s literally you. I love _you_.”

Felix stares at him wide-eyed. His shoulders drop the slightest bit as he gawks at him, absolute and unadulterated shock. Sylvain smiles even more at his expression.

"You… You—you’re not serious, are you?” Felix asks slowly.

“Of course I’m serious. I always liked you, but I just couldn’t figure it out until now.” He pauses to give Felix a minute to think, to take this information in. “But I really like you. You understand me better than anyone else, and you’re…” Sylvain trails off. He doesn’t want to sound too cheesy, but he doesn’t think there’s any other way that he can express himself. “You’re like my other half, Felix.”

Felix stares at him and then averts his gaze, wiping his eyes. Sylvain smiles warmly at him. Even when he’s crying, he looks pretty, and it just isn’t fair. It’s cute, too, how Felix hasn’t truly grown out of being a crybaby, even all these years later.

"That’s stupid. You’re stupid.” But even despite these words, Felix steps a little closer to Sylvain, almost cautiously, like Sylvain is going to pull the rug out from beneath him and tell him it’s all an elaborate prank. Felix shakes his head. “You don’t have to pity me.”

"I’m not pitying you. I’m being serious here. I really do like you.”

Felix stares at me. “Really,” he deadpans.

“Really-really,” Sylvain replies.

Sylvain patiently waits for him to accept his words, to accept his feelings, to trust him. He holds his arms out for another hug. Felix slowly ambles towards him, still eyeing him warily. Sylvain only smiles at him, and Felix slowly falls against him, slowly wrapping his arms around Sylvain. Felix clings to him for a bit.

"I don’t really believe this,” he mumbles after a beat of silence. “You’re not kidding?”

"I’m not.” Sylvain rests his chin on Felix’s head. “I promise.”

Felix chokes out a laugh. “So you’re not going to stop being weird, huh?”

Sylvain grins until he feels like his cheeks ache. “Nope.” He squeezes Felix tightly. “If anything, I’m going to be even weirder around you now. And more insufferable. Way more insufferable.” He pauses. “Unless you don’t want me?”

Felix huffs and hugs Sylvain back, just as tight. “Shut up. You’re dense as a rock.” He lets go of Sylvain. “I…” He looks down at his feet, his arms crossed. “I do want you. I like you. I’ve liked you since we were kids, Sylvain. That’s why I… When you went missing, I…” Felix trails off, burying his face in Sylvain’s shirt, but Sylvain can tell he’s stopped crying.

Sylvain feels his chest swell with warmth at that. “I’m surprised, Fe. I thought you couldn’t stand me at all!” Felix looks up at him flatly; Sylvain just winks at him. “But who would have thought that Felix—cool, stoic, grumpy little Felix!—could like me, of all people?”

“I’m just as surprised as you, trust me.” Felix rolls his eyes. Then, a little more somberly, a touch more softly, he asks, “You’re really going to stop flirting with girls? What about your bloodline?”

A bitter scoff tumbles out from Sylvain’s lips. “I couldn’t care any less about my bloodline or my Crest. That’s something my family cares about, not me.”

"Your family,” Felix echoes, though he’s known this fact for all his life. Then an odd atmosphere settles over them. Felix wriggles out of Sylvain’s embrace. “Sylvain, about Miklan… Are you okay? I know it’s been a while, but still.”

Sylvain hates hearing that miserable name, especially from Felix’s mouth. It’s haunted him through all these years, and even after he’s died, he’s still haunting him. “It’s fine. He’s gone now.” Sylvain can’t really mask the sting that resounds through his chest.

Felix gives an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t sound okay. Sylvain.”

 _I’m trying,_ Sylvain wants to say. _Being honest and open about these kinds of things is hard. You, of all people, know that._

“Time heals all wounds,” he says instead with an indifferent shrug, “and it’s going to heal this one whether it wants to or not.” He softens his gaze and fixes Felix with another smile. “But I’m sure it’ll heal much faster with this beautiful angel by my side, huh?”

Felix gives a _really_ exasperated sigh. “You really are going to be more insufferable, huh?”

"Of course!” Sylvain answers brightly, but Felix knows he means, _I’ll stay here for as long as you’ll have me. I love you._

“Ugh,” says Felix, but Sylvain knows he means, _I love you here by my side. I love_ you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! thank you so, so much for reading my dinky little fic! I'm aware that the ending is a little weak, but quite honestly, I've had this monster sitting in my drafts for the longest of times and had no idea what to do so,, here he,,,
> 
> but I hope you enjoyed this story!

**Author's Note:**

> stay tuned for the resolution !


End file.
